The hours fly by and sleep eludes my mind,
Because tenacious images hold sway.
An unheard voice whispers words not unkind,
My words -- to drive the images away.
Bright images, fantastic and mundane,
And shadow constructs built of doubt and fear;
I see them all, the pleasure and the pain,
And grand adventures make sleep disappear.
Soft arms of slumber quietly enfold
My shoulders, sagging, weary with the strain.
Yet, on they flow -- the words -- timid and bold;
To tell the tale, to let me sleep again.
At last, the words release their fierce embrace,
And I succumb to slumber’s ardent grace.
Mick McKellar
August 2015
I was up again last night, in the wee hours, pecking at my tablet to translate images to words and release my mind -- for it was time to dream.
Mick
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