Midnight, Oil, and You.

Sitting here alone, I ponder
as my mind begins to wander
through the jagged crazy maze
my thoughts lost in a tired haze
my desire compels me to write
even at this late time of night

My fingers gingerly caress the keys
quickly before inspiration leaves
fighting sleep to stay awake
I marvel as this poem takes shape
knowing not from whence it sprung
nor sleeping until it's done

A small victory have I won
even if the battle's not done
for you see this poem is true
this is how I connect with you
although it's not too deep
you can read it as I sleep

Midnight, Oil and You
By Dave Powell