The Illusion Poem by Myrtle Thomas

The Illusion



the long nights welcome sleep
yet deprived of dreams

hindered by hot comfort and strong drink
goblets stained with lipstick
are etched with monogram
like pillows drowned in tears

dusk to twilight should be solace
under the stars and hunters moon
slight of imagination and stirred emotion
are the stop sign in a nights sleep
to run with the sheep without a count
for mind races and the heart beats as thunder

why wonder in the shadows?
to only wallow and wrestle in the darkness
while body and mind seem to fade in the daylight
the weakness, so tiring is a slave to empty nights clean sheets

Oh! how the night escapes to flee to a stranger
a portion of quiet slumber, would be a celebration
as an equal of twenty four hours... to climb Jacobs ladder
then to see the morning glory
with rested eyes and mild mind

a ration of sleep has been like gold
or a wealthy Kingdom far away
beyond reach from poverty and famine
with parched lips and burned skin
blistered and unsalved
a treasure to be thankful for is a good nights sleep.