A Poem Born in the Still of the Night

Last night, as I lay in my bed,

Thoughts swirled in my weary head,

A poem begged to be set free,

So I picked up my pen and began to see.

Words flowed onto the paper so white,

A dance of language, a waltz of delight,

Lines formed and curves grew,

As the poem took shape, it was anew.

The ink flowed and the page filled,

My mind was calmed, my heart stilled,

The rhythm of the poem was my guide,

As I allowed my emotions to collide.

Each word was a brushstroke of my soul,

My innermost feelings taking control,

The poem was a reflection of my heart,

A window into my deepest part.

When the last word was finally penned,

I felt a sense of peace descend,

The poem was a release of all I felt,

A journey into my heart, it truly dealt.