" The Arrest of a Writer"

the sheriff came
to get me
the other day
and took me away

I told him
he must be mistaken
he said it's not a whim
that you have been taken

he said it's been reported
you have been negligent
he said it's not distorted
your time is not well spent

you say it's what you do
your lights burn all night
your writing is never through
all you want to do is write

I pleaded innocent you see
and told him of my plight
all I am trying to do
is find time to write

he laughed and said
if that's all it's well
we will put you to bed
alone in a quiet cell

a writer must be free
to write when words call
to roam the fields you see
where words grow tall

it's crime in the word world
to miss a chance to write
even if it means
staying up all night