Tick
Awake! for midnight at the witching hour
Is when all poetasters do conspire
and in their quest the gigabytes devour
A line, a moue, a mute desire
The strangest thing, where is my pillow
Not in the bed nor on my pyre
sweet thoughts throughout my brain do billow
Alas, I feed an endless fire
of unrequited and soulful desire
And may this travesty expire
| Contributors: | Nym, Francine, Karin. |
| Poem finished: | 17th July 2003. |