Between two and three o'clock at night

 

The rain comes with the same usual tick ticks on the window

I keep going through the storm to who is waiting

I won’t make it by tonight if I go to slow

 

The rain does not alter or slow but rather picks up

I have to hurry because they're waiting

My car keeps picking up speed, going ever so faster

 

I hope they are still waiting

The wind blows and I end up in a meadow

For there they are in my sight

 

Then I realize my nightmare

For they've been dead for many years

Am I dead? Three ' o clock at night.

Paolo Driussi