Roam

My thoughts twirled 'bout in song and sleep,

Toward my chair, I again did creep,

To find a voice or vacant whisper,

Soft and sullen with meaning deep.

I stretched my arms and cocked my head,

At no great distance from my bed,

Safe I was, whether cold or coward,

To invite that existential dread.

True, my door was but steps away,

From human light or dream decay,

So might I venture, were my soul well,

But not this night, no, not this day.

In black that hides the moors and heather,

Or a city lass in lace or leather,

I shall find no towers nor cricket chirp,

I'll remain safe from man and weather.

And in this house, this quiet home,

Where stars are blocked, no light shone,

I'll type and drift through lost ether,

That only fingers, not feet, can roam.