i awoke

     as always,

        poetically.

     words on my mind-

on my lips.

  nary a sheep ever counted.
  
         just words in cartoon balloons-

         from my mind,

from my lips,

      to paper they go

even before
            
             my first coffee sips.

    i'm a writer.

my subconscious mind even

   plays along-

even in deep sleep,

     there are no sheep-

just pulling words from

   cartoon balloons,

       i write .....

    Poetry....

         Prose....

                    Songs.

even in the shadows of my

   dreams -

       when I've put the world

to bed ....

            i still write...

        after i've turned off

all of this world's

lights....

   i have a quill

in my head....

        that always

has ink in...

    abundant supply.