What can I tell you about my lover, Sleep?
Each night through locked doors she enters my room
Doorman never giving warning. Shoes in hand
She treads lightly down the hall, my
Chamber door opens noiselessly and quickly
Till in seconds she is sitting on the bed.
The corner sinks where she settles.
I do not want her.
But her moves are quick
She is like a windmill in the wind
Many-handed, tall on the brow of a hill.
I do not want her
But the fringe on her glove is so thick, it
Swarms with aromas, brushes my lips,
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Sleep by Morgan Michaels )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Peter S. Quinn
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
- The Saddest Poem, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- The Bull, Ralph Hodgson
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- A Smile To Remember, Charles Bukowski
- Love, Sarah Flower Adams
Poem of the Day
- A pencil on a painting, Ntando.B Da poet
- Distance, Alex Rodriguez
- Fierceless, Alex Rodriguez
- A Thousand More, Smoky Hoss
- i think i left my hand in yours. go look., Mandolyn ...
- Wild cold of novemeber, Alex Rodriguez
- Far Off, Sentamu Aziz
- Mill By The River, Stratis Havarti
- Take A Stand, Saiom Shriver
- Suckling, Saiom Shriver