for read write poem’s promt fresh paint/make up.. and for saturday scribes’ theme, insomia
i been here before,
lurking and playing
at the basement of my head.
been playing the scene
again and again,
changing it, to whatever
ending pleases me.
and as the silvery moon
stared back at me,
as if questioning my sanity,
i laugh to myself
and gave her a playful wink.
is it a sin to be a night flower,
thinking about someone
who were able to fill my thoughts,
day and all through the night?
