UNTIL IT'S MORNING TIME BY FIONA CUMMINGS

UNTIL IT’S MORNING TIME

BY FIONA CUMMINGS

Tossing and turning

Aching and burning

First too hot and then too cold

Feeling each spring

And every fold

On my mind of what I could buy and what I have sold

Darkness is before me

I hate it though I can’t see

I know it is there

Freaking me out with its stare

Fingers of fear

Is drawing near

Breathless am I

Sleep I do try

It’s no good

I give in with a sigh

Come into my palace of pleasure

My vocation

My leisure

Starry stories

And a painted poem

Bring back memories

Of a happy home

Or a sad time

Words so fine

Fill my head

Wake me up from my bed

But then I try to put pen to paper

And it all goes wrong

So I sit for a while

Then write a song

The inky sky lingers on

To greet the dawn

Leaving me with a printed sheet

Cursing me with lack of sleep

So these words I pass onto you

If you are with me

 And waiting for the ink to turn pale blue

I can share my feelings so true

Another sleepless night for me

I guess I will make a cup of tea

And say cheers to the night owls

To the distant howls

From the hunted fox

I should lock away in a mind box

All of these thoughts of mine

Then perhaps I will be able to rest

Until it’s morning time