I write while people are sleeping
Or staring at beer, weeping.
It’s that time of the night
When the words seem to be just right.
Everything is quiet and the words fit
Like pieces of a woven quilt
With each thread overlapping
To create what’s happening.
The sun rises and I lose my focus,
Car lights flicker on and I becomes us.
The world awakens and the passion is gone.
Good thing night isn’t too far along.