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POETRY

Night Writer

How the sausage is made

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Night sky
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The dark of night is this poet’s lair.
Oh, sure, I write in the bright, fair day,
but the good thoughts come with nighttime air,
and the great arrive while dreams hold sway
(but then, by morning, melt away).

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Copyright ©2020, Paul H. Harder II
This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

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