I saw the light creeping from under
the door of your den.
I didn't even have to wonder,
you were putting the past behind with your pen.
One could almost see emotions escape
with that giveaway light.
Massaging those words that you shape
as you nocturnally write.
I know these things only too well
for my light also burns.
Sleep is for those with no story to tell.
an insomniac quickly learns.
To stay wide awake in bed would be a ruse
as the mind is hatching schemes.
Grab some coffee, embrace the visiting muse
that shook you from your dreams.
Writing is cathartic before the dawn arrives,
pent up stuff gets its lyric release.
The stories the early risen mind contrives
often makes a moving forward piece.
When you feel you've polished yours to a shine
please let me feast on it ravenously.
Be assured you’ll get to dine hungrily on mine,
that’s how it works between you and me.
Submitted for the Moving Forward challenge hosted by VH42
'putting the past behind with your pen'
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