the kettle’s on to sing the song that lets me sleep once more.
my mind all wired and tangled up in dreams that cannot be
my pen and cup the tincture sure for whate’er be aillin me.
moonlight the witness, the lonely one, who seeks a living face
to share the quiet, the contemplation, that fills this darkened place
the bed, she calls and seeks my warmth, yet cannot meet my need
an empty mind, a peaceful soul that wanders not, nor bleeds.
thoughts run round like scattered men, hell bent on self destruction
they cannot stand, call hither and flee, promising false seduction
my heart cries out, the loss, the gain, the feelings so full in the night
cannot be changed, nor given away, but hid by the morning’s light
that kettle’s song, it sings once more, the pen writ sure and true
my soul poured out, like naked at birth, to share who I am with you.
the cup sits empty, the paper full, mine eyes sweet rest implore
I slip away, the moon speaks not, the night carries on once more