Instrumental music Is always played at night.
Right before my crazy dreams take flight.
Before the music, I read poetry aloud.
After, I look for just one cloud.
I write down my thoughts about what I read.
Then I get cozy in my bed.
Some of the music makes you feel hoy.
One nights, the music mde me think if a sad little boy.
The way last nights did play,
Wanted me to get up and go on my way.
The music fits just right.
For this time of night.
The station is around 98
The good music starts right around nine; I stay in my room at night so I am not late.
I close my eyes
I get some sleep, then 6:30 comes and I must rise.
When I wake up the music is playing.
And I am still in my bed laying.
I get ready for school
And before I goi find it cruel.
To turn off all the beautiful sound.
All I can think about is for night to Come around.
Later in the day,
The story is going to replay.
A poem by Blue Flamingo
