Do not lament a midnight heat
That cannot move from head to feet,
That aches for words, but will retreat
When summoned bare at noon.
No fleeting wisp or taunting sprite
Can force an insight into sight.
You simply write because you write
To share with all in tune.
Your poem must have its time alone
Before it speaks for more than one;
The best of poems are never done--
The worst are done too soon.
Copyright © Jerrell Jones | Year Posted 2015