A Writer’s Repose

A pillow of thought to rest my head,

Where the weariness will pass,

In the solace of pages, a comfy bed,

My brain will rest at last,

Wrapped in the blankets of my spoken word,

And the ink on eager lines,

My heart grows wings like a morning bird,

No longer doubts will bind,

Taking a moment to feed my head,

‘Cuz the door mouse told me to,

Following desire where I may be led,

When there is nothing else to do.

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