estranged

some nights, it's only street lights that guide this l(one)ly heart to
my bed. Sleep is a capricious thing, one moment begging to take me,
the next, whispering the swirling smoke of idea into my ear.

in this molecular universe of stop motion life and dreamed dreams, i
wonder just how many poems sleep beneath the inkwell of our eyes. i
wonder how much magic leaks away uncaptured, untouched, with the
coming of the sun and our conscious minds.

come then, my estranged friend Sleep. let us make amends. let us
taste the stars together.

ghost