~
forfeiting sleep for poetry
harking night noises
balanced on one elbow,
I’m intent on hearing
those secret words
that hide within the myriad folds
of insomnia whisper mist,
the timid beautiful words
that silently cock and writhe
like tangled silver fishes,
desperate to evade my intrusion,
the magical beautiful words
bedrock and foundation
to precious prose
are masters of disguise,
to the ear they are warm, lifeblood
of sonnets, songs and sagas,
velvet to their core, which
cannot be tamely harvested,
lucky the poet who wins their gaze
*
© Graham R Sherwood 05/23
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 