Sometimes in the night she creeps into my bed,
Her unsuspecting target is my head.
I lie awake and listen to her words,
So often they ring true and new
And full of promise.
Sometimes her mind will change
And I must ponder her meaning.
Never bold and brash and angry
But ever thoughtful,
Sowing seeds that may prove fruitful,
Or will they wither and be dead
By morning light ?
In deepest sleep perhaps,
So many silent nights go by
Without her coming in the darkness.
Restive, I enjoy her welcome touch,
Her words will echo in my head,
Tumbling and turning, round and round,
Then in excited fever, as in a trance,
I reach out for my scribbling pad.
Her words secured, I now relax,
My mind once more returned
To fitful dreaming.
My wife, long suffering, now wide awake
And restless in her marital bed,
Asking herself "For goodness sake,
Why did I a poet wed ?"
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2017