It's ten after two
a.m.
and I'm feeling
artistic
I don't have brushes,
canvass or paint
so I will make you
a masterpiece of words
I will cross my t's and
dot my i's
and send several sweet similies
from my pen
to your paper
leaving me as bare and open
as a fall tree that has just shed
it's leaves
drip drop
the sink is playing
tick tock
the clock is saying
serenading the peaceful world
singing the songs of insomnia
heard only by those
caught between day and night
dreams and reality
consciousness and
sleep
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1 comment:
love this
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