NO-Title

Lea and I never really have titles, so I just thought I would put that as my title today.

The clock ticks away; 9:17

p.m.

I want to write, I want to think
I can write, I can think…
about…
sleep.

The softness of the bed
The way it conforms to my body
Like a drop of water on a still lake.

The dream-like reality of my pillow,
Ethereal as a cloud.

The comforter comforting me like a mother’s hand,
Quieting my soul with its soft fingers of fluff and cotton.

The creaks of my bed-frame singing to me
“Go to sleep”
“Go to sleep”
in a child-like pitch of love and loneliness.

My blanket, rubbing against my face,
like my papa’s stubble
so soothing and so relaxing.

The clock still runs, never stopping for the tired.
9:26, and my bed still far away.
My heart yearns for the beauty of my simple bed,
My feet yearn for a resting place.
Soon it will come, soon my heart will be satisfied.

The moon rises in the night,
My bed is calling and I shall answer.

Sleep