All smiles and giggles when six
Turns quickly to fussing and fits
Whenever is said,
“Naptime. Go directly to bed.”
Yet sleep achieves a great feat,
For when they are woken
The grumpies are beat.
If only all woes were
as easily solved.
Imagine a workplace
that had evolved
To give people a bed
Whenever they needed
more sleep for their head.
Can you imagine, “Siesta right now.
You may not metaphorically plow.
Until kindness to rule, you allow.”
If only siestas for adults
Would bring forgiveness for insults.
Perhaps sleep would like magic reduce
The times of backstabbing and power abuse,
The number of errors, but creativity loose,
And lead to more income and clients profuse.
This really isn’t that novel—what I’d like to know is who will pay me to take a siesta at work and if I’ll still be able to finish the day’s work?
There we lay, our bodies tangled and our fingers intertwined, my hair in his face and our legs wrapped around each other. Such perfect knots make up the one image of our bodies laying next to each other. We can’t tell who’s finger is who’s, what leg belongs to which body. When we are together, we become one beautiful entity. A single being. His eyelashes are butterflies that are taking an afternoon rest. When I open my heavy eyes I notice that his lips are slightly turned upwards at the ends, and that is cheeks are tinted with pink. His jawline is constructed so perfectly and its chiseled edge cuts through the dim room. His fingertips press into my back so he knows that even when he drifts off, that I'm not going anywhere. I wouldn't dare leave his arms. They are my home. There I am laying next to him and I see perfection in front of me, and I listen to his heart give the beat to the song that is made by the rhythm of his deep breaths. My absolute favorite song.
— The End —