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Midnight Solitude
Clara Solano
·
October 7, 2026
·
2 min read
Three AM and the Amber Lamp
“At this hour, the street belongs only to the stray cat and the ghosts of decisions made too hastily in daylight.”
Type Scale:
At this hour, the street belongs only to the stray cat
and the ghosts of decisions made too hastily in daylight.
The brass lamp hums a quiet yellow circle
around an unwritten page.
and the ghosts of decisions made too hastily in daylight.
The brass lamp hums a quiet yellow circle
around an unwritten page.
Sleep is a country that has denied my visa.
So I sit upon the border of morning and night,
listening to the refrigerator hum,
and the distant siren three avenues away.
So I sit upon the border of morning and night,
listening to the refrigerator hum,
and the distant siren three avenues away.
There is a strange, holy peace in being forgotten.
When everyone you love is asleep,
you need not be brave, or cheerful, or whole.
You may simply exist, like dust suspended in light.
When everyone you love is asleep,
you need not be brave, or cheerful, or whole.
You may simply exist, like dust suspended in light.
— Clara Solano
Archived at PoetrySad
About the Author · Clara Solano
Resident contributor writing for PoetrySad. Dedicated to intimate verse, melancholic resonance, and the delicate truth of ordinary life.