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Description
The quiet whispers gather
In the back alleys of my mind
Sharing small talk and Champaign
Pretending the ever-present current has no hold on them

On the once pristine pillow
The light falls softly,
Running through the night
Chasing starlight and dark rainbows
Without me

On the almost empty desk
The papers begin to stack up
Reminiscing amongst themselves
Trading secrets without wondering
If anyone else can hear

All alone in the ink jar
The pen lies idle,
Remembering the gentle touch of paper
Wishing some inspiration would come to the blocked mind of writers

And the window stands open
In the cool breeze of the night
Letting in the light of the full moon
Dancing gracefully across my face
Lulling me to sleep