Catching words that are tumbling
Whirling around inside my head;
Do I try to keep or forget them
So they are as good as dead?
Its four o'clock in the morning
When they drag me wide awake
And I need more sleep
Please for heaven's sake;
But insistently they pour
Through my working brain.
Just a line or two at first
But they set my mind in train
And very soon I know
I will creep down in the night
For I will not sleep again
Until I start to write.
And I wonder as I start
Will anybody else see
Or is this frequent torture
Endured just for me?
Tomorrow I will edit.
Having led me this dance
I feel I really ought to
Give my thoughts a chance.
And it's back up the stair
Though it seems getting light
For, please, just a little sleep
To finish this broken night.
Maybe later this morning,
In the cold harsh light of day,
They will read to me as such
Nonsense to be just thrown away.
