She had four morning nectars but night tries to remain in control. Her bed is luring her back; she can hear its haunting song whispering in her ear and drifting around her head, like a breeze caressing leaves on a tree.

Her eyes drift in and out of focus as she stares at the laptop screen. Fingers move with caution across the keyboard. Each finger tiptoes around, taking care to touch the correct keys. These modest black keys transform the words forming in her mind into the sentences on the screen, and a new blog is born.

Eyes struggle to stay open; the lids hang limp as their tiny muscles try to take the strain. The weight overpowers them, and the screen is gone from sight again. Soon, this weight is felt in the neck, and her head is too heavy to hold. It teeters to the left, then to the right, finally coming to a halt upright again.

Muscles moan in protest as her mind fights on so the blog can flow. It has a journey to make into the wonderful world of words that is the blogosphere. Fingers continue cautiously across the keyboard because corrections will interrupt the flow of words, and pay the price with wasted energy.

Her brain screams for sleep, but the words keep flowing. Her mind refuses to give up and allow sleep to shut it down. She resists with a large intake of breath and a deep, lingering sigh. Still the brain screams. Yet another morning nectar, but still the brain screams. Her limited energy supply is draining fast; her mind must race to allow all the words to flow into their new home in the blogosphere.

The haunting song of the bed puffs like a fresh brewing storm, swirling around her head. It moves her hair like branches on a tree swaying in the wind. Muscles can no longer take the strain. Eyelids hang closed, and the screen is blacked out. Her head now slumped against the back of the couch, has succumbed to the weight and rests on a cushion.

In spite of this, the blog breaks through the storm as those fingers continue to tiptoe around the keyboard. So slow; oh, how slow they move. But in an act of defiance, the words still form, and the blog swells in pride. “You can huff, and you can puff, but you can’t blow me down” bellowed the blog, who was now fully grown.

As the blog strides off to claim his rightful place in the blogosphere, those loyal fingers finally lie still on the keys. The brain has stopped screaming for sleep, and muscles stopped moaning. The storm has calmed, and the wind whispers again. The haunting song of the bed has slowed her mind to a gentle hum and sleep consumes her. Night has regained control.

Even after four morning Coffees I couldn’t wake up!

Photo Credit: (c) Can Stock Photo
Slogan – Mine.