Midnight Spectrum

With the sunrise
You're in my palms...
While in the end
Midnight
Rests its soul
Between
Your thighs
And I wonder
Through out your day
Where the borough fits in
And where your thoughts direct their stare
And what idle ideas
Are synonymous for in your world
As well as the order of your words
In that
Little
Secret
Folded tree
In the backyard of your mind
Because while midnight has been granted the heat of your inner being
I have been left to
Loiter on the outskirts...
Until I'm special enough to be given a role...
Until I'm special enough
to plant my own tree
In your back yard
In the hopes of something
Profound in nature occurring....
Like midnight making room
In the special space inside of you
For the rest of us
In the spectrum
Of light.