Contact Poem by Alexander Downie

I’m here again in the wee small hours finding it hard to write, the words that will be shared
tower of dusk long since long gone,
my guarded battlements of verse are yet to be chosen,
I’m left trying to express, in short, sharp, rhyme, the memory that I care

Will I ruin another’s rest by my scribing light, my mind races so fast as to deny my vacant sleep
be it that this prose meet with understanding eye,
when at last it reaches the preferred reward
Will these rivers of artless type fill the breast and dupe a heart to keep

Tired eyes, of tired mind still try to find adequate words to convey, the wanting that I feel
which keys of letters should I turn to cut my loss,
should I feign much lighter
Tired sprung combinations yet unlocked in recall forged from tempered steel

So here is to you for whom this is meant I hope you are impressed
my love laid before your gaze
my ranting to inspire
every thought laboured over in spite of wanted rest
every moment no regret
to this plight you are my invited guest