Hi guys, check out this poem i posted a few months ago on the Go Dog Go Cafe’ about insomniac poets and their pens.
Choice determines direction, Direction determines destiny.
The smiling sun in the morn is shining in the east
Up high, the skies are blue and cloudless
Up low, the birds in the trees are singing
A tune to which the trees in the blowing breeze are dancing.
The city, to sleep has said yes
Yet the poet is wide awake, his pen never at rest.