The Book (Pruned)

The Book

When all our friends have gone to bed,
we watch the moon all night instead.
We struggle with our restless pain,
and try to fall asleep, in vain.

We grab our book and find our pen,
with hopes to hear the Muse again.
For that is why we have our book:
we hope through songs the Muse will look

and see we’re waiting here to dream,
and watch us while the stars all gleam.
We drop our eyes and then, aware,
we hope our journals end despair.

We listen with our pen in hand,
and hope our hearts will understand.
We listen with our sleepless mood,
and hope to show our gratitude.

"The moon and stars are bright," we write.
"Insomnia is hard to fight."
We write our song with open heart.
The journal takes our thoughts apart.

So in this book we put our fears,
and pour our love, and yes, our tears.
For as we write our song tonight,
we hope the book will dowse the light

with thoughts and dreams from deep within,
so we can go to sleep again.
For in this book we write our song
and hope to dream,
again,

‘fore long.