Poems in the Night

Late at night while trying to sleep
The wind-chimes making their soft tinkling music
I feel the words surrounding me
They beg to be committed to paper
Poems reach out to me
Grab at me like greedy hands
Introspective grow I as the night goes on
At last I take pen in hand
Knowing I will know no solace
Until the whole of the gluttonous
Words are scrawled on paper
Only then shall I know any rest

? 2001
Lisa Gibson
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