3AM and my mind does twitch
The man inside wakes, he flicks the switch
I try to stay still, I try to sleep
He has other plans; pulls me from the deep.
Lay on my side, keep my eyes closed
But he laughs, he sniggers – he knows
It won’t be long, I cannot fight it
I feel a phantom pen in hand – need to write it.
Pull myself up, flick back the sheet
Stumble to my desk with wobbly feet
Plonk down in the seat, open a fresh page
Hand on autopilot, knows exactly what to say.
Takes only a moment, the words do appear
The story, the image – it all becomes clear
The highs and the lows flow from the pen
Finish the prose, but it will happen again.
I know I can’t complain, I love to write
But seriously? 3AM?! It’s the middle of the night!
If I had one wish, only one demand
This inspiration would come later, when the sun was high
Towering above the land.
writing, my writing, poetry