London Poem: Day 140

4 January

To sleep,
As the languid hours pass,
Would satisfy,
But undoubtedly it never comes.
Heavy lidded as the wide,
Sombre hours unwind
In a slow, lengthy bloom and
The chill doesn’t wait for
Sleep to come.
Where are you?
Twisting in shapeless dreams,
Pushing restful reacquaintance
Into that deepening,
Unending night?
Surely the horizon arches
Beyond eyesight,
But for now the dark deepens
And flattens the world
So that these eyes seem
To never shut.

Advertisements

Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s