Accidental Poet

Now He’s Really Lost It

Uh-oh, looks like I’m writing again

God knows it’s only 3:00 AM

I should be sleeping

But no, my fingers are typing

What might my keyboard have to say this time?

No doubt, some sort of rhyme

Could it be inspirations so lyrical?

Or just gibberish in senseless circles

Why, I ought to be in bed

But from where I don’t know come these words instead

“Now he’s really lost it,” but look again, my eye is winking

I’m just an innocent spontaneous writing fool

Lyrical phrases attack me from a hyperactive word pool

Quite often in the middle of the night

Maybe I can blame the moon and starlight?

Most certainly, I need my sleep

Snoozing away where I don’t utter a peep

But then, in slumber what words lurk?

Waiting their chance to escape the murk

I could go down to the beach

Out to the ocean, my hand to reach

For soon surely the sun will rise

Casting crimson colors across sparsely clouded skies

And then, again here I’d sit

Writing of emotions spawned from it

Well, look ye here

Of the past hour, I’ve a souvenir

Add another to the list

Composed words my fingers could’nt resist

Smile for me if you will

For that I might even put ink to quill

To share jumbled thoughts

Of this, that and what not

Nostalgic ramblings of a middle aged baby boomer

Or nocturnal wanderings of a starlight bloomer

I guess for now, nothing more to say

Other than I wish you all a very, very nice day