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As night grows short, yet moon and stars are still aglow,
some sleep with dreams which to the world they’ll never show,
and others sleep with dreams that cover up great woe.
But there are some whose minds are dancing to-and-fro,
who find that slumber is a thing they must forego.
They rise from bed; then creeping down the hall they go
where they can put their thoughts to verse because they know
that fleeting are those thoughts which fall like flakes of snow
across their minds. To capture them they must, and so,
the shadow poets pour their hearts out! Even though
they long for sleep, they let their dreams on paper flow!
Written Jan. 16, 2017 for John Hamilton's 12 by 12 Monorhyme Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017
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