Trixie My Muse Wants To Play

It is three a.m. The witching hour. Trixie, my muse wants to play, do I want to sleep? It does not matter. My muse has me by the shortest nerves. She is not letting me go either. She loves to look up new words. To sit with a Thesaurus in my lap. To flip through and write down our favorite words. To check and see if you can add an "ly" to this word and that word. Trixie controls my mind. They both want to play. We work tomorrow.one of the under-bosses of my mind whispers. We have to get up in two and a half hours. Do we want to sleep? It matters not. Trixie rules me, especially at the witching hour. I reach for the Thesaurus.