insomnia

Urchin's words about loneliness, about loveless existences
circle in my head
they echo in the cavernous emptiness
of lonely sleepless night

a forlorn call
response that takes an age to answer to
rebound
the sound a pebble dropping down an (empty?) well

I wait, holding my breath, for the answer
which comes again, that there is nothing but vacant echo
in those hollow early hours that stretch time
and allow space
for my fears
to creep through the cracks
in my bright face daylight armour

I long for velvet sleep