Sometimes when I'm so down
That there is no up
Like when you wake in the middle
Of the night…and all you can think of
Are things that you don't want to think of.
When you wonder why words like
Warm, fuzzy, and nice seem lost
In the depths of your mind.
What I do when this happens
(as it seems to do more often of late) Is…
I think of Marigolds and Petunias,
Hollyhocks and violets. Warm cozy places,
Porch swings and kitty cats
Barns, hugs, puppies and cinnamon
Bubbling brooks, rusty bridges
Wind riffled bluegrass atop
Kentucky ridges.
Dragonflies. Honeybees, misty mornings.
And spider webs draped in dew.
I wrap myself in these warm fuzzy things
And go back to sleep
…On gossamer wings…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If a man's mind is made of good thought, he may not be tired of insomnia! nice to read 1