Of what dreams may come

I can write of stories. I can write of glory. I can write of the meek or strong. I can write of woe or sorrow. I can write of a better tomorrow.

I can write of girls, of boys, of love. I can write of sin, or all of the above. I can write of song or shame or tears. I can write of all your darkest fears.

Yet what to do when the ink runs dry, the hand cramps or ideas die? I resort to the music; My pillow, the drum. I lie asleep and ponder of what dreams may come.