Angela Grout, Author    

In the Middle of the Night, I awake and Write.

The nudge of my Dream becomea real yet unseen.

Then ink stains a page, magically bringing thoughts to be seen.

A science class.

A chalkboard.

Trimesters divided and explained.

 A Pregnancy...

What could happen when the carrier dies....will the idea survive?

Do we bury our ideas...or can we gift them?

Birthing a Book, Business. Birthing a Song, a new Venture; or simply a dream.

Do we bury within?

Will we bury it below?

Shall we gift it?

The footprints in the snow leave more blood than answers.

Oh a dream.

Oh a thought.

Revealing a story, a message, an inspiration as the ink dries on pages.

A teacher dies.

A flower exploded.

But...I repair it. I repair the flower, I kow the teacher.

The stain on the rug dries, and the truth of the lessons learned bring me guidance.

Looking at me with her fluffy hair...I know. I know.

"Listen to me" she says softly,

I cannot fathom her request...so I drive away.

The dogs are barking.

The snow is fresh.

He looks somber as I make a request.

"Open the Casket." I whisper to him.

She echos in my ear, "I am beautiful. Too beautiful for you."

I pull away from the embrace, learning he never did look her in the face.

In the middle of the night, I understand her fate.

Innocent yet guilty of a secret she had to face.

Hiding evidence, he plants what he must.

Knowing the truth of why he came home so late.

Now she is dead. 

A bullet to the head.

And I am faced with ink stains on my bed. 

Dreaming, Writing, Living, Breathing.

The visit of a dream, brings so much inspiration and yet so many questions.

Writing the answers is a process. Knowing the answer is a guess.

Sharing the story is a gift.