Hiding under heavy lids
And sleepy heads
You could not bring yourself
To leave your bed

So you tuck up the covers
And snuggle with a pillow
You don't care about that fly who hovers the window
"Oh,"
You think,
"This time is as rare as a four leaf clover"

Still air
The fly has stopped whirring
The room cascaded in calm, light blue
You aren't cranky
You don't feel sick
The bed just won't let go