A 3am Poem

In the hush of 3 am's quiet embrace,

Moonlight weaves tales on the canvas of space.

Silent whispers dance with shadows deep,

Dreams unfold, secrets the night does keep.

A symphony of stars, a celestial ballet,

Where sleep and wakefulness gently sway.

Echoes of memories, a nocturnal waltz,

In the realm where the mind exalts.

The ticking clock hums a lullaby,

As sleep and solitude intertwine, oh my!

Whispers of the night breeze, a gentle choir,

Soft serenades that the dark inspires.

Moonbeams caress the slumbering world,

In the quiet, fantasies unfurl.

A tapestry is woven with threads of the night,

Where reality and dreams take flight.

The night owl's call, a mystical song,

In the bewitching hours, where dreams belong.

Stars paint stories on the canvas of the sky,

As the restless soul begins to fly.

In the stillness, reflections find their way,

Lost in the dance of the astral display.

Shadows weave tales on the walls,

In the quiet, the heart softly calls.

As the city sleeps, a symphony of quiet,

Dreams ascend on the wings of the night.

In the velvet darkness, time takes a pause,

Reality dissolves in dreamy applause.

At 3 am, a rendezvous with the sublime,

A poet's heart paints the canvas of time.

The pen dances on the paper's white,

In the realm of dreams, where poets write.

A nocturnal sonnet inked in the dark,

A journey profound, a poet's embark.

Through the corridors of sleep and thought,

In the silence, inspiration is sought.

So, in the stillness of this magical hour,

Let words bloom like a midnight flower.

In the quiet, let verses softly chime,

A 3 am poem, a moment frozen in rhyme.