as I lay here in the light
watching my ink roll
I contemplate my life
and all I've gotten myself into
I feel like an artist
deep in the night
having confined myself to my studio
until I produce some work worth merit
my eyes shifting
following the pen
everything falling in and out
of focus
listening to oldies
I know most of these songs
they're all before my time
they had good music then
pouring out my spontaneous,
intimate thoughts
personal or not
still, and deep from within
sleep drifts, closer
as my eyes begin to droop
and my pen nears the edge
of the
page.
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