This sleep thing sucks
It calls to claim me
When I arrive
It only shames me
It holds my hand
Shows me the quiet
I hear lips whisper
If I’d weapons, I’d fight it
Turning pages tear
Mind’s library too loud
Chairs and tables burnt
Books piled and ploughed
Early morn has nothing
Sights and sounds to simple
Calmness and ease alight
Sunlight smiles and a dimple
Into a day with little rest
Might as well fail this test.
EaS
No comments:
Post a Comment