I want to write a poem about the calmness of sand
cooling on a coast in early morning's soft light.
Or lapping waves creeping to my toes
on a lazy summer lake with the sun at its peak.

I want to write a song about the freedom of birds
and clicking crickets humming in the rain.
Or cracking sticks buckling beneath armored feet
as the sun sinks down below tall mountain peaks.

But all I can write are poems about sandy toes
dancing in the dawn and dirtying the sheets.

And all I can sing are songs that you hum
in the middle of the night when you're fighting off sleep.