Ode to Sandman
I owed him money.
Morpheus, my alt’ring friend
I would coax you close to me.
For my weary day is at an end,
So the help I ask of thee
Is to put rest my esprit.
Detailed pictures painted
As my lids begin to close,
Not a single image tainted
Nor one struck stroke laid with prose:
Now I plead for a repose.
For those perfect, brilliant visions
Are a glimpse into a soul
Fallen prey to times’ incisions,
Though each tear and every hole
Is a means of your cajole.
Now here within my slumber
All my hopes and dreams are real,
Ev’ry feeling unencumbered,
Ev’ry ordered thought surreal:
What I would give to be unreal.
(2015)
