Many a word has inspired me to write,
The beginning hardly matters, if I do not go on till the very end;
Hiccups, insomnia and an irresistible urge to put my thoughts down caused by this summer night,
Delaying my search for a remedy, a remedy that will mend.
What I've become gets clearer every minute,
I hear the clock tick, ticking twice every second;
Soon the sun would be up and then my eyes would be shut,
Don't get your hopes too high I'd also be up contrary to what you'd have reckoned.
Up to start a new day,
hoping to start afresh with a redeemed spirit;
Whether the sun shines or not, I'd have to make my hay,
Or I'd still be with my pen tomorrow night, firmly sit.