Friday, 3 March 2017

Chasing the forty winks away

I’m scared to slumber,
Fading in a moon’s penumbra,
If I care to remember,
The months since December.
For my mind to keep,
And recover by sleep,
All my counting of sheep,
Never got too deep.
In the dawning of Friday,
The clock that made me sway,
Dressed and on my way,
To work to make some pay.
Heavy my eyelids weigh,
Down over my eyes to stay,
Hard to nap as you now may,
For a bed on which to lay.
But for another few hours to go,
What things to keep blood aflow,
My face to have a glow,
Let’s be done it’s time to go.
Out of a tired brain,
A hopper of words like grain,
In order for prose to gain,
A reading free from pain.


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