The soft thrum of clean hair
on pillow threads
tolls my anthem of peaceful sleep
Mr.Stork flies in on a fan's breeze
and takes my worries behind the moon for safe keeping
The rising sun then melts them
off the night's blank clock
and my worries
drip faithfully back
to cupped hands
on pillow threads
tolls my anthem of peaceful sleep
Mr.Stork flies in on a fan's breeze
and takes my worries behind the moon for safe keeping
The rising sun then melts them
off the night's blank clock
and my worries
drip faithfully back
to cupped hands
Post a Comment
Be the first to comment on this article!