My writing process

When the night is cold and silent,

My eyes are heavy and weak,

The best ideas attack me,

While I’m drifting off to sleep,

I force my eyes to stay open,

Find my way into the light,

Open up my laptop,

And I begin to write.

Fingers dancing over the keys,

Catching thoughts before they slip away,

Hoping the critic will stay in bed

And my creativity will stay.

So I keep on typing,

Until thoughts are lost from my head

Or my until my body defeats me,

And I stumble back to bed.