I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I’m awake, you know?

Ernest Hemingway, American Novelist

. . .

Dawn splatters day across dark,

My clock awakens to waken. Hark!

Yet slumbering I remain, in quilt’s embrace,

With care not for birdsong or clock-chase.

Lurid day beams flood through window-seams,

While eyelids shut allure with charming dreams.

With a lively intensity, light begins to glow,

And as the world erupts into sound, so does my snore.

As shadows near extinction and brightness abounds,

For the thousandth time my clock’s aweary cry resounds.

Yet unmoved I lie turned to stone by sloth,

Unbeknownst of wasted time spent in a sea of cloth.

At long last I ascend to face my fatigued clock,

And nearly fall into eternal slumber, induced by shock!

. . .

Granville D. Austin