I was told that I was haunted. Now I know it’s true. The thoughts creep under my covers and snuggle up with me in the bed; they whisper ideas that threaten me with evaporation should I dare not get up, 55 minutes past my bedtime, and write them down. Just as I’d begun to think that there was no way I’d write a post a day but I would try for the once a week challenge and this blog is supposed to be about only poetry anyway.

This is not the first time. It was the one of many when I told a wise friend that I can’t sleep sometimes because I am writing or creating that she told me I was haunted. By what? She wouldn’t say…but I knew. And now I won’t say either for the purpose has been fulfilled (but if you pay attention, you’ll hear about it one day in a song).

Tomorrow, there will be poetry…only poetry…I hope.