My eyelids refuse to unfasten
The light of the moon absent
Or simply hidden behind the darkest of conspiratorial clouds
I lie still, accompanied by a bird-song somewhere in a lofty tree
The tune is harmoniously synchronous with my tinnitus
Something in her presence comforts me
Is her wailing a lament or an expression of bliss
Does she simply need another to acknowledge her existence
And hear her sing and express herself
Or perhaps she heard me wake with distress and restlessness
And is showing kindness for another soul
In letting me know she’s there with me
And I’m not alone.