Analysis of Insomnia

Who calls my name above the whispered wind song
and rustles yellow leaves near my window
while the weeping willow sways beneath a winter moon?
Mournful ghosts of forgotten dreams drift
unbeckoned through my mind, spreading ashes,
and taunting me
with hints of thyme and heather.
Beyond my darkened window lies a blanket of new snow
upon the earth and in the arms of naked trees,
like a virgin’s robe, leaving no hint of what’s beneath.
Still sleep evades me and in its place a cast of shadows
dance a silent ritual upon my bedroom wall
and my thoughts ramble down a thousand paths
 this sleepless night.
Gently swooping down on the dark wings of fancy
the night wind eases through the trees saying whooo.
I wish I knew.  I wish I knew.