Writing of Words

Writing of words,
in wee morning hours.
Scratching on paper,
until my hand starts to cramp,
is not a preferred way
but is required now.
Words, clear from my head,
a tearful display,
as I write and write.
Where come they from,
I ask of myself.
Unable to answer
I return to my bed,
to the same spot,
where she once lay.