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Fire & Ice

Politics, culture, and other oddities.

Saturday, December 16, 2000

I just wanted to post a little addendum to my other post about sleeping issues. I wrote a trite little poem about it, and thought I'd post it:

“Song of Somnolence”

the tell-tale ticking
as the hour hand creeps past 3
ambrosial scents waft in through windows
thrown open:
it is a night fit for the gods

I sit alone eyes stinging
blinded by my blackened thoughts
which build like an ashen residue
three-thirty, then four

when the early light
rides upon the coattails
of the vanished night and the taste of
ambrosia lingers on my tongue
like the sweet memory of a forgotten nightmare

the ticking ceases to be
only when I cease to breathe
so closing my eyes to the
faintest fingers of light
I finally sleep.

:: posted at 12/16/2000 04:12:00 PM | link | | ^top

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