Each window is like an open eye
That peers shyly onto the moon
Whose covered by a sheen of gloom
As she watches over the sky

And all the chimneys are also here
Which indicate a once warm hearth
That only have aesthetic worth
Who’ve yet, with time, to disappear

Pedestrians are just tiny ants
That slave to continue on their day
Their size and look does not display
The dreams and hopes that talking grants

And I, alone, stood on this roof
Observes the pass of natural night
Tries to configure what’s wrong or right
Without being too much aloof

I turn off the lights
And close my eyes
And try to convene with others

I lose the fights
And see sunrise
And think of all my lovers

Wishing that
Inside my dreams
Luna has also gazed at me

And that she watches over me
To put insecurity at ease.

This is the plight of an insomniac romantic-
Sleep deprived, emotionally frantic,

But I still feel rather fantastic
Despite all these existential antics.