Writing words in the low light, the night light
By gray illumination, pooling on my window sill
Casting a shadow on the carpet, though dimly
Faint traces of music, on the edge of hearing
Teasing my ears as they filter under the door
I'd like to hear it, to replay it once or twice
But I sit here writing in the low light, the night light
Outlining thoughts for no one to read
Wasting ink has become my night time obsession
Hoping for sleep, the insomniacs dream