Stealthy jot

It is in the night, dark and eerie night
And the prefects are prowling for any awake soul
And there I am, static in my bed covers
When a good idea pops in me mind
 
Stealthily, like a lion approaching prey
I retrieve my writing pad and pen
Under the pillow
And the small torch with a little illumination
And I raise my blankets for space
 
Moving my hand barely, I start to jot
A rustle of bed sheets, a pen freeze
And jot stop jot stop, continue
Until there comes out a good production
And thus comes the mighty poems!
 
 
 
© GIDRAF MWANGI