White Nights

A woman unseen, her eyes deeper
than vanished continents, sits
in a room, smoking a cigarette,
waiting for a dawn that just
won’t come.

On the other side of town (let
us say) a man unknown, victim
of too much coffee and too
few dreams, tosses in bed,
waiting for a sleep that just
won’t come.

What these two are really waiting
for is of course each other. But
they cannot know that, and we
have no way of telling them.

by Frank Fagan

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