Sleeping socks
Lying over the side arm-rest of the chair beside me
Slurping snoozes
In their airways.
Black and white tilted sadly not awakened by the morning church bell.
Yet it's more quiet there asking if they've done their part.
In distant snoozes we speak- A sniff of poison can leak into my heart as the deafening noise of stripes plead only a smell- a smell of dissaray as the night lingers on.
What goes up must come down must it not, yet bound absolute that passage-airways clear up.