It’s early Monday morning and I’m up before the dawn,
A story on my mind, gotta type but then I yawn.
Coffee percolating, sleep wiped from my eyes,
I settle down to start before the neighbors rooster cries.
I’ll listen to the story playing loudly in my head,
And transcribe each scene, exactly as they said.
I’ll write the heroes’ messages, every whisper, scream and peep.
Until the story’s finished, a hundred pages ’till I sleep.