I can't sleep so I write releasing what’s in heart.
Poetry speaks
Angry, sometimes, echoing tones loud
to wake sleeping reader eyes.

While other times its light and airy
like drifting rainbow clouds that tickle senses.

Ever so often it rhymes inside song,
as if a nightingale whispering in ears.

It may be long like a saga that needs to be said,
as one floats in visions grand.
Or short like a Haiku that makes point fast
so clarity lingers.

I can’t sleep so I burn the night oil which these days becomes the lightbulb that matches moon.

Perhaps one will gander on my hills of phase
below their field of stars
or maybe reader be in slumber readied
in morning light to open my gate title.

Either way Its way past my bedtime and my dreams they do await... Farewell