Late Night Senryu
The words are prodding,
At the soft edge of my tongue;
Urging me to write.
Paper screaming blank,
under my hand so gentle.
My pen hovering.
My mind whispering,
A thousand words per second,
Transferred on the sheet.
The book of knowledge,
Feeds me poems of beauty
Late in the evening.
And while my conscience
Is dreaming but wide awake,
I need sleep once more.
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