There are some nights when
sleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wiles
that I employ to win
its service to my side
are useless as wounded pride,
and much more painful.

Maya Angelou

Read poems about / on: pride, sleep

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Torsa Ghosal (3/23/2008 11:07:00 AM)
maya angelou's poems never fail to touch me... this 1 too is wonderful.

Yoonoos Peerbocus (6/12/2007 10:49:00 AM)
an ocean compressed in a pin head

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5/18/2008 2:44:01 AM. You Are Here: Insomniac by Maya Angelou