He can't quite remember when he last slept well
Sure he gets a few precious hours a night
Fretful in all but action
They called him pensive today
He isn't really sure why that means something
Why that one comment made him feel so sad
He knows that it's getting late
Later than he normally goes
He knows he's probably too late
And not just for the night
He sighs, closing the blank screen
Always another night he says
Crawling into the bed, and turning of the lights
He doesn't realize that he is missing something
Something that would give him so much to write about