At night the words come out to play
Skipping along through my head, as I lay
On the pillow, awake, reviewing the day.
The price I will pay for these words in the light
Of tomorrow—frustration, fatigue, and the fight
Between words and myself that started last night.
In daylight, the words scamper and hide
In my brain, inaccessible, taunting my pride
In occasionally catching them, stemming the tide
Of the thoughts that tease me, dare me to chase
Them, hunting them down all over the place
To write them on paper, thus winning the race.
To those scurrilous words I say, “Taunt me no more!
I’m sleeping tonight; I’ve settled the score
Between you and me.”
I hope I don’t snore.