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May 2018
In the purple depths of evening,
when the moon and stars fade away;
And the air is filled with mystery,
as the spirits come out to play...

There's an inspiration growing within,
a mind that's filled with gloom;
To tackle all the demons which,
have lived forever in this room.

Grabbing pen and ink I start,
to describe my inner thoughts;
The lamplight glows before me,
bringing comfort to my heart.

Yet still the motion of my mind,
spins like a twirling windmill;
As each word I write is garbled,
quite distorted and unfulfilled.

The lamplight starts to flicker,
and suddenly I'm aware;
This notion of pouring out my soul,
has given me such a scare !

The wretched night moves into day,
before I have the chance;
To recover from this episode,
then from the desk I glance...

Outside into a perfect dawn,
a springtime gift from up above;
The cobwebs cleared I close my eyes,
seeing the face of my true love.

He's softly whispering his feelings,
of sweet devotion through the hours;
Which calms the storm within me,
and restores the lamplight's powers.
Written by
Frances E McClelland  Hamilton, NJ
(Hamilton, NJ)   
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