Restless

Street light filters through curtain chinks

Casting spectral light on a light blue wall.

Clock and ceiling fans compete

Irritant sounds,

In hushed tones.

And directly below the source of wind,

I lie,

Extend a hand towards the light,

the dark-phobic limb shadowed black

juxtaposed against its desire,

distinguished by a silver sheen

a lining of curving skin

that cups sore eyes,

insomniac and eager for rest.

But mind unwilling works in overdrive

And marvels at the life of the night.

The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2022. Day 9. Prompt from @literarychills - a source of light.