Midnight; and most are snug in bed,
Lost to the world of sleep.
It's now thoughts stir within my head,
Ideas begin to seep.

Distractions of the day behind,
I hear the voice within.
Alone and still, it's now I find,
I'm able to begin.

To write about our life and times,
In any form I can.
Short stories, anecdotes and rhymes,
From across its varied span.

And try add voice to hopes and dreams,
Loves, joy and aspirations.
The world, life as it seems to me,
Through rhyming ruminations.

To help advise, console, assist,
All those who are to read.
Whose names are on life's longest list,
Of all who are in need.

As empathy and insight are,
Great tonics for the soul.
Shared understanding may go far,
To help reduce fear's toll.

And make the world a better place,
That, despite so much despair.
When life seems but a selfish race,
There are words at hand to care.

If through my tales, a heavy heart,
Would feel its load made lighter.
I'd be humbled having played a part,
And would rejoice at being a writer.