Morgan Michaels

Sleep - Poem by Morgan Michaels

What can I say about Sleep?
Who tip-toes down the hall
In slippers each night;
Opens the door
Sits on the edge of the bed
It sinks
Her hands move quickly
Like a windmills' on a hilltop.
I do not want her. I wave her away
But the fringe on her glove is thick,
It brushes my lip

Topic(s) of this poem: love

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Poem Edited: Saturday, December 19, 2015

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