Into the dark tunnel / love cast its light / creating hands from shadows / gently pulling her / home.

Seconds / slip from the clock / bounce off the desk / fall at her feet / begging her to sleep.

Inhaling figments / exhaling fancies / so then believing / like breathing / became second nature.

Their giggles / dangling in the open sky / amongst countless stars / each peal of laughter / a wish come true.

More than slightly placid / dreadfully tepid / she plans 2 dip n2 the script / but decides: / CANNONBALL!

Still a tap of the foot / a tingle up the spine / her poem lacks form / anywhere / near her mind.

If this poem were you / it would be brilliant / tinged with the sunrise / still entwined / with the stars.

I'm in the mood / for a little midnight/ poetry / but my synapses / are not.

What a clever sponge / to soak up the Sun / then wring its rays / over a gloomy day / again.

Upon the bridge / between winter's winds / and summer's showers / the song lay dormant / in healing hands.