“The Nights I Write”
by Thadd Presley
Sitting near the window, under the moon, in the light I write
Harvesting thoughts that form from dreams during the nights, I write
It has been a pleasure to write about their lives, an undertaking of soul
As it happens, their fictitious life’s design illuminates the nights I write
Dark characters die too soon only to be born alive again to sin
and hide in the shadows or the dens to survive the nights I write
The village where I create my men and the wives they so love
comes ever so close to disaster within the darkness on the nights I write
The men cry, “Thadd, why dost thou do ill and evil to us men.”
I have learned they deplore their days and despise the nights I write.