I write with a purple pen.
Ink spills across the page,
strutting like an actor on stage.

Romeo and Juliet?
Those lines arenít memorized yet.

Words and lines
of my own invention?

Yes, thatís the penís intention.

I wear purple gown to sleep.
My dreams are nice and deep.

By the time I stir and wake,
my memories these thieves did take.

I need to know.
I want the knack.
Theyíre my dreams!
I want them back.

I want to find
the purple dress.
I admit, I want to impress
new friends and old ones too.
Purple dress, where are you?

So comfortable and so nice.
I keep looking for you,
today makes thrice.

Isnít that a lucky number?

I brush my hair with a purple brush.
In the mornings, I try not to rush.

Clothes are nicely pressed,
it doesnít take long to get dressed.

Each curl is in its place
before I go outside to join the race.

I write with a purple pen.
My words, for now, will end.

No splaying across the page.
No prancing as if on stage.

In my purple gown,
to sleep I will go.
My words will continue to flow
trusting tomorrow I will let them show.

My sleep will be sweet
with dreams complete
with success and fame.

But when morning comes,
Iíll be struck dumb
by dreams that stole my words again.

© 2001 Jen Nipps