The sun sets over the weary hills <br />And the yellow fields and dark hedgerows <br />And rows and rows of horizons piled up <br />One by one, one by one <br /> <br />The night is still, the air is still <br />The clock ticks, and ticks, and the birds <br />They are not singing yet, but they will, they will <br />The hours are slow for the living now <br /> <br />And through my weary eyes I see <br />The sun rise unwillingly <br />And know another night has gone, and <br />Again, and again, sleep won't come, <br />The birds sing, and the night is gone.<br /><br />Mina Harker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/insomnia-145/
