Monday, December 6, 2010
I sleep with a book in my bed
Book & I:
Like every night that was preceding,
By bedside light I lie here reading,
Hoping that I don't start snoozing,
'Cause I need to elude sleep's capture
So I can finish one last chapter.
I need to win but think I'm losing.
Eyelids getting oh so heavy:
One more crack upon my levee.
Soon somnolent waters shall start to spill.
With these subtle cracks, sleep keeps encroaching,
An unconscious state so soon approaching
to take my thoughts against my will.
Who was the killer, have they survived?
Can the hero be revived?
These kinds of things need exposure.
I just need a minute, maybe more,
To find the answers I'm searching for.
I need that time to get some closure.
In disagreement my head starts nodding.
I just can't think; my mind is plodding
As words on pages keep on blurring.
I try so hard to refocus
And ignore this hocus pocus,
But deep inside I've stopped deterring.
And so my thumb slips, pages flipping
For it seems I'm no longer gripping.
As if my body's been possessed
It's giving in to sleep's demands.
The book falls gently from my hands
To rest a bit upon my chest.
We take a break from epic stories
And let the brain take inventories.
To wakefulness we shall say goodbye.
Do books dream? I know I do.
Maybe it can join me too,
As we sleep together, Book and I.