A Very Good Bad Habit

Nights are meant for man to sleep –
Rest the mind if you may –
But it’s my own time to creep.
Days are lost, nights turned day

Days are lost, nights turned day
Poems are what I weep
Not one minute must stray
This score I always keep

This score I always keep.
For each candle I burn
A poem, I must reap.
Till engines of hearts churn

Till engines of hearts churn
Sleep is the ware I trade
Where moons sleep and not turn
Poems are the love I made

Tee2emm