There is utter silence
Groping for the words to write
The night comes swiftly
Into the wee hours the mind searches
Exacting it has to be
The switches have long been put off
Still, there is a light that flickers
Until the dawn has not yet come
It persists in probing until it finds
Only but the right words appease.
If you ask me,
That is how it goes if you crack a poet’s mind.
Written on 30 December 2014 in Rome
Photo by cromaconceptovisual from Pixabay