The Dead of The Night
Sometimes when I’m tired, lonely and a little bit blue,
I’ll go to my page on one of the sites I belong too.
It is a place where I can listen to my favorite music.
Where my thoughts are in harmony with the acoustics.
I’ll sit for hours while entranced with songs of romance.
And as my mood changes my pulse beats rhythm to a dance.
Classical music plays a symphony with my emotional being.
And westerns make me want to pick my guitar and sing.
While I’m on my page the writer inside of me takes a break.
My mind wanders on the illusive intrusion of a relaxing wake.
Than all of a sudden I see a light and the next poem I’ll write.
Words come like magic and this all happens in the dead of the Night.
I live in a world of dreams, a world where I dream all kinds of things.
I see myself handsome, rich and debonair the wonders of life are mine to share.
What more could I want then that which is mine, where in my dreams do I dot the line
There's more then enough love and good will for all of mankind
What more in this world could I wish to find.
A dream is a dream and it can come true.
And it can happen it’s all in plain view.
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