The sea was awake at midnight.
I heard it rustle on the shore
like a restless ghost.
The bottom of its dress blew in the wind
with white foam
cascading on its feet.
I wondered what sorrows
kept it awake,
denied it the sleep enjoyed
by her marine children.
It seemed to ask in a plaintive voice,
why am I awake?
I could only shake my head.
I don’t know, I said.
It replied in the echo of a shell,
I am full of darkness.
The stars cannot comfort me.
Where can I lay my head
and listen to the wind
sing to me?
I had no answer.
Perhaps you are only made of dreams,
I muttered.
How could you sleep?