Insomnia

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 04, 2018

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Submitted: September 04, 2018

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This, the witching hour

If driven to it

Is my most fertile time

My mind builds mazes connects unrelated 

Subjects in leaps and bounds 

Sews the past present and future

With twisting twining Yarn 

If only there was

No auto correct. No miss-typed word,

A way to pull these thoughts 

And moving pictures from my brain

Straight

Untainted 

Winding and wishing and whole

With no need for translation, 

For transmutation. 

Everything is clearer now 

Bright flashes of insight

Chasing lightning bugs 

Twinkle twinkle

In the warm June night 

In the beginning of September.



© Copyright 2018 Amoniel Muse. All rights reserved.

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