Sitting here at 3am,
A ditty in my head.
I really need to pull it out
And get back into bed.
But nothing is forthcoming,
It scampers vague and fleeting.
Toying with my artistry,
Emerging then retreating.
Ah, here it is at last.
Oh no, now it’s gone once more.
It fell out of my nose
And now I’ve lost it on the floor.
© Copyright Philip Barton, July 3rd, 2025. All rights reserved
