Night thoughts

To dip a pen in indigo ink
and scribble on a piece of paper
scratching symbols from my brain,
I think I might  understand
Poe as he talked to a raven
by candlelight and loneliness.

The ecstasy of the sound
of  the nib on paper,
the feel of the pen in my hand,
the glow of flickering flame
in my pupils, aware

of the sensuousness of writing
and the connection between
thought and fingers...
Nevermore.