i long for sleep,
that fickle former lover,
who used to welcome me
as a bequeath

but now avoids me,
or if, under cover,
it is some other set
she’s underneath.

and so i drive,
in body and in spirit,
across whatever
roads, however far,

and leave a tune there
for whom haps to hear it,
that might just bring some sleep
to where

they are