In the Middle of the Night
Lord, I don't understand
why you keep waking me
in the middle of the night
to set these poems aright.
It's dark when I get up
and he's still sleeping sound.
I can't turn on the light
in the middle of the night.
I stumble around, reaching
for glasses, paper and pen,
searching for that poem
you want me to re-write
I'm now wide awake
in the middle of the night.
Wouldn't it be just as well
in the middle of the day
for what you have to say?
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
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