He stands six foot four, a great imposing man, his hands large and intimidating, his chest barrelled and his jaw stern as he patrols the tiers. At night when the owls screech, he clutches tight to a soft teddy bear and gently rocks against the threat of darkness and the pull of sleep.
She used to patrol the streets while the sun slept, responding to nocturnal happenings, dodging insults and fists with a smile behind her eyes and pride in her chest. Now her nights are spent under the bright glare of a nightlight, tossing and turning while chasing sleep.
He used to stare down the barrel of his weapon, his only friend and confidante on those long lonely missions. Now he stares at the ceiling, exhausted and wishing when he closed his eyes that each bullet wouldn’t find its target over and over again in his mind.
She used to smile down at you, an angel coming to save your life, a warm hand on your shoulder, words meaningless to you but spoken with such authority and confidence that you gave her your trust. Now she wakens screaming loudly, terrified of an image that only she can see.
He lived for his job, rushing into fire when others were rushing away; he fought to save lives, to save families and to keep you safe. Now he paces through the night, feeling the heat smothering him, hearing the screams of his comrades and wishing never to be pinned down again.
These are the night wanderers, the ones who will rarely if ever, sleep again.
Author’s Note: This is an attempt at poetic form, not my best arena of expression but as always, I’m open to constructive critique about voice, flow or any other pointers you may have to help me improve. As usual, the content is fairly self explanatory. Hope you enjoy.