The poet begins to write,
lines of literary magic
appearing on the page, awaking power
awaking emotion, like a strain of music
drifting to my ear. Thinking about my friendship,
I watch as you drift off to sleep.

Awakened from my world of sleep,
by words I can't understand, I write
them down, for the sake of a friendship
in the making. The magic
of the words, a spoken music
fills the room with a sound of power.

Feeling swelled with power,
too high strung to go back to sleep,
I find a peace in my music.
A song sticks in my head, I write
it down and feel the magic
begin anew, renewing my friendship.

I find myself thinking about friendship,
a curious sort of power,
to bind people together, a magic
in the making, a dream in sleep.
Thinking of these things, I write
it down and go back to my music.

You come and listen to my music,
to find in notes, a friendship
thought long lost. You think that you should write,
for words have a power.
But you go back to sleep
and hope you can find, in a dream, that magic.

Looking in the magic,
and listening to the music,
I find in a dreaming sleep
that the bonds of love and friendship
have, in them, their own power,
and I once again write.

Time to write, to make the magic.

To find the power, once lost in music,

And grow a friendship in a dreamless sleep.