Midnight Comforts

At midnight, the can pops, a metallic song,

a simple rebellion when the night feels long.

Steam rises, a warmth in the chill of the air,

my solitude thickens, my hunger laid bare.

I cradle the bowl like a secret, a friend,

a moment of solace where time seems to bend.

Each spoonful of broth warms the depths of my soul,

a midnight retreat, yet it can’t fill the hole.