Poetry

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My page can't speak,while all words do sleep,until they awake,
some then i shall take,some i may need to read again,and employ
the use of my writing pen,the harder one's i cannot chew,the easy ones are ever new,still always have my dictonary bard,to find the right ones that are hard,just simple prose and what to say,before
this midnight hour came,awoke from a quite disturbing dream,a reptile bit into my foot,with its very dangerous venemous tooth,
so glad i woke up when i did,made me write now what i have said,
big words are not my own forte,rely on the simple as night slips
into day,its now wednesday,so i hope and pray.
Joe.

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