The cold dark
Night colour breeze pushes
It pushes hard through a window left ajar
It pushes in and swirls

The coffee tastes raw on the lips
Eyes itch with discomfort
Shiver tries to keep the balance
Not even any help

The pain and torment
They don't seem enough

A scrape makes a gasping escape
From under the paper on the hard desk
The pen scrawls out the final words
The hands drop limp to rest

A completed work
It's all done
A novel finished
At four in the morning