He shadows me when the sun filters through the clouds,
******* my steps and treading on my heels,
dragging at my leaden-limbs, wearying and bothersome,
though only ever at the edge of being noticed.
He reaches into my head and stirs up my thoughts like tea,
fogging up my mind and my sight.

At night, though, he leads me easily to bed,
and this time I am the one following,
and this time he teases, hovering only at the edge of awareness.
He who chased me so ruthlessly through the sunlight,
now watches silently as I struggle to find him under the moon.
Though, in all honesty, sleep has always been a scornful lover.

h.f.m.