Poetry

I woke in the pre-dawn yesterday morning with a fragment of a poem in my head. So often if a thought comes to me that time of day, I go back to sleep and lose it. This time it begged to be written down so by the light of the moon, on the back of a paper butterfly, and with a scratchy pencil, I wrote down the single line.

There.

Half an hour later my subconscious made an adjustment to the line and back up I got to scribble the change down.

I hate being woken from sleep, even for a line of poetry that won't go away.