Poem: In a Pillow

In a Pillow

The hands of sleep creep around my brain:
massaging, kneading,
gently squeezing,
then the fingers back off dragging
the tendrils of warmth ebbing and flowing
to the rhythm of my heart
and the twitching of my eyes–
throb throb throb–
brain, eyes, heart.
And so I squander
my three most precious gifts.

Advertisements

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 )

w

Connecting to %s