Poetic Night Writing © Lyn Crain

Poetry into the darkest realm of my mind
Blossoms into a creation late at night
Where it is only me, of the human kind

My beloved felines stalk without the light
Playing with whatever tickles their fancy
Blossoms into a creation late at night

Their playful sounds tend to amplify
My fingers caress the keys slowly
Playing with whatever tickles their fancy.

Images float like a Thanksgiving parade
Inspiring me to places I have never been
My fingers caress the keys slowly

Beautiful, poetic verses fill my page, amen.
Poe, Frost or Shakespeare, I am not, but I try
Inspiring me to places I have never been

The words of the masters simply mystify
Poetry into the darkest realm of my mind
Poe, Frost or Shakespeare, I am not, but I try
Someday, my words will be just as refined.