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Last Nights Brainwave

[Written in mock Shakespearean(ish) for no
better reason than my own amusement]

Enlighten me, Lord, O where might it go
Perchance some robber doth steal it away
Late evening acquired and meant it to grow 
Forsooth, it is gone, ’tis absent today

How might it blossom If nourished and fed
A deed laid aside for when I arose
The small hand was high, I went to my bed
Did the night watch it go, nobody knows

Surely the answer dwells inside my mind
Lord, lessen this fog to render bright lit
Should no doppelgänger be there to find
Neither my first nor my last moonlight flit

Notions not noted if lost to you will
Perhaps soon flow from another man’s quill

Copyright © Terry Flood