Ideas always strike right before bed time…

When the ideas strike, it’s irresponsible to simply roll over and say “I’ll jot it down tomorrow.” It’s not going to be there tomorrow. And if it is, it won’t be the same idea. It’s what a writer does. When the idea sprouts the writer stops and takes notice, giving it full attention. That’s the end of my preamble. And now the poem…

Where Dreams Never Begin

In a twin-sized bed
Under a ceiling fan
With three pillows stacked
beneath my head
While music coats the
darkened room
And I’m still here
without you.

SAP

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2 Comments

  1. One of the many reasons there is always a pad and pen wherever I am – beside my bed, in the car, computer bag…I’d be lost without them.

    Lovely poem. I believe dreams can still take root. Pain and want are the harbingers of hope and love, therefore dreams. (Hugs)Indigo

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