Seven Count - a poem

They just won't stop, seven count now
My mind's a rush, the rhymes keep pouring
Know what I'd be doing anyhow?
Dreaming, sleeping, resting, snoring.

Creation flows when least expected
My fortune I shall not fault
But in the sleeping mind I wish collected
This potential stored in the vault.

So many better things
The poems could be deeper
Instead of stumbling forth
From the pen of a late-night non-sleeper.