Morning Comes Early

Morning comes early
to those who can’t sleep.
The tossing and turning
comfort just out of reach.

The mind doesn’t wander
it jumps and it leaps.
Thoughts and ideas
of which all I must keep.

Sleep is expected
but never appears.
Instead come the words
corralled into poems so dear.

Yes, morning comes early
or perhaps night never goes.
The stream of consciousness
always inspiring my flow.

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