...

7 views

Sleep
Tired, my mind can't write a poem,
The exhaustion aching through my bones,
Eyes drooping on words written alone,
My fingers being eaten by my phone.
My memory thinks about ice cream cones,
Places from the past that are gone,
Stories of various different stones,
Nonsense finding its home.
Mind is drifting in a deeper song,
Strangely one that is full of gnomes,
Eating delightful and fluffy sconces,
Now I shall rest before I valley an empty zone.

© Written Dreammares