The Good Sleep
She was late coming home from work, wanted to rest
a bit before dinner, at nine I ate in the kitchen, didn’t
like to wake her yet she was so tired.
I had a drink and watched telly till eleven, then worried,
the silence in the bedroom ominous, what would I do if
she had slipped into the deepest sleep of all?
I knocked softly on the bedroom’s door; “Are you ok
darling? ” No answer. I switched on the light came nearer
to the bed, her face was smooth and free of worries,
a smile on her Marilyn Monroe lips, and she was breathing
easily. Relieved I grumpily woke her and asked if she
wasn’t going to eat anything.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem