…and sometimes when the night is still
When doubt has pushed against my will
Drenching my spirit with winds ill
Until I fain would curse the quill
I hear you whisper quietly
And somewhere deep inside of me
I’m bolstered by an aching need
For oh, a poet I must be
…and sometimes when the full-moon smiles
Expanding Time’s insistent miles
And when the vaunt of thought beguiles
Spawning keen creature wants awhile
I wrestle with conflicting bliss
The agony of almost kissed
Where perfect words slip to the mist
Invisible and taunting twist
…and sometimes when the night is still
I slip your whisper to my quill
Tracing your tear against my will
While the moon sinks beneath the hill
Before I lay me down to sleep
Or stars fade to the azure deep
I laugh, I pray, I moan, I weep
A poet has a charge to keep
© Janet~
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!