I am waiting for slumber to keep
and surrender to the deep,
but only aches do conquer,
claiming victory over my saunter.

My insides smell like
Cinnamon

But taste
like
wilted

flower petals;
Dry,
bland,
Dead, gone,
Desaturated colours
in my pupils

I melt into a pile of ash in
The ground

With the rest of the infertile soil,
With the insects
With the lush green grass
and the birds
and their nests full of twigs
And chirps
And songs
And hums
And sounds
That echo
That resound
That stay
That fly

With the sky.
Buried with my name.

Until it turns to night,

Then the
moon
and
stars

come out

And
I

Hide

A

W

A

Y

.

Sleep always feels owed; one’s life
cannot be fully owned –
As we look for this complete rest, do you
rest your weariness on those you trust;

For even as sleep is the cousin of death;
would you still deny yourself true rest?

And do you deny the comfort of advice
from a true friend –
Or do you sleep on their words, under
the covers of your pride?

I think that there’s a bridge
out there somewhere,
lying distant in the winding path ahead.
One that spans across still waters,
beneath amber trees.
Just like in fairytales I’ve read.
 
I’ve only dreamt
of what might lie across its span.
I’ve pictured just how it will be
when step by step I walk,
hands gliding across its rails
as time drifts off so peacefully.
 
It keeps me going, hoping
that I’ll find it there.
That someday when my journey’s done,
I’ll walk around that final corner
of my time,
and find that bridge there in the sun.
 
Then I suppose I’ll pause
a moment to reflect,
while standing there, ready to cross.
I’m sure I’ll be in awe,
not knowing what to think.
I’m sure that I’ll be at a loss
 
for what to say, but then I guess
there’ll be no words
that will need saying,
I’ll just take the steps and go.
I’ll walk across that bridge
then I will finally be…
back in the place we all call home.

Lay dormant on my lap,
Hand on thigh,
Butterflies.

You make my heart race,
Laying across my,
Own

it’s time to rest

for a little while, not think
about what’s to come

just listen

remember everything, listen
to the echoes

rest

play with the cat.

Your grieves, you hide,
Concealed you keep,
When problems are wide
And pains so deep.
If you have sorrow inside,
You can weep.
If you are so tired,
Go and sleep.