I wrote this years ago while on a train when I noticed my seat mate watching me.

When I Write

On a stormy day,
on a foggy night;
That's when I sit,
and try to write.

I write of darkness,
and the evil it brings;
Of the wolves that howl,
when the midnight hour rings.

Of witchcraft,
of sorcery;
Of powers that were sought,
by, oh, so many.

They stir their brews, on a stormy day,
they weave their powers, on a foggy night;
They stir their potions, that's when I sit,
they cast their spells, that's when I write.

When the night wind howls,
and the moon shines bright;
When ghosts abound,
and witches take flight.

Is when I scribe my words,
and weave my spells;
Taking my readers,
through all their hells.

'Tis not always so,
that I write of these;
Sometimes I write,
so as to please.

Poems of love,
whispered on the breeze;
Poems of solace,
to put hearts at ease.

Poems of peace,
the ending of war;
All of these,
I write poems for.