"The Midnight Poet"

A Grandfather clock strikes the midnight hour,

nightly shadows cross the room darkening even

the darkest corners.

The other side of the room,occupies a bureau,

with a busy writer. All inkly and word flow,

the sweat shows on his brow.

He sighs, wipes his head,and takes another

cigarette.He tries to forget,but the writer

within him,wills him on.

Imagery and paragraphs,spill out onto the pages,

under the light of the full moon,he has become a 

poetic loon.