When I was young, I liked the dark and cold
of winter and of midnight. I rebelled
about the sun/moon symbolism told
in classics, and I often felt compelled
to ram my views against tradition’s wall.
I thought I was nocturnal too. I stayed
up after others, and I didn’t fall
asleep at school: a nap was not my trade.

I’d no idea how different I would feel
as I grew old – I’m frequently surprised:
I love a nap; it takes me weeks to heal;
my urge toward warmth and light can’t be disguised.
I thought I knew myself so well. In fact,
I’m moving so my view can’t be exact.