Why do you love, at edge of day,
The happening of nothing much,
The hour of no words left to say,
And darkness taken in as such?

Is it the idleness of calm,
Or much-too-active’s true reward?
Don’t know – but know you love to sleep:
For it’s one time you’re never


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5 Thoughts to “Sleeping

  1. I Love this! That is a great question for poetry. Why do you love idleness? Why do you love the nothingness of the day? The edges of day and not the meat of it?

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