Pillow Lake Poem by empty shell

the sun is long gone, the moon's getting tired and here
I walk through the grass.
dew cold on my feet, sleep in my eyes, clothed
in nothing but jeans.
it must be 3, maybe 4, where am I going
with my pillow this night.
no direction, covered in clipped grass, chilled by the night,
I walk.
Oh, oh, .... yes, ..... now, I see
the perfect night, the perfect lake, the perfect rock
(a lakeside perch)
the lake is still, the tulips droop and lilacs
drift into my head
I stand, I admire, find the right spot
lay my head down slowly
and sleep
the lake sparkling in my eyes forever