SLEEP, THAT SLY EVASIVE FOX

SLEEP, THAT SLY EVASIVE FOX

In the middle of the darkest night
When nightmares call and a thousand witches
Cast their wicked spells.

You bring cool water to my forehead,
Respite from a thousand screaming hells.

And you sit with me, you hold my hand
And I am lost in a sweet dreamland

And the night is cool as peppermint,
Bathed in splendor heaven sent,
And lives within my memory,
A new and wondrous reverie.

And oh, how I sleep, drifting silent in your arms.
I sleep through dogs barking,
And neighbors’ errant smoke alarms.

And oh, how I slide, body bliss on satin sheets
While the Sandman waves his magic wand
And the sheep I’ve counted cease to bleat.

And oh, how I snore, lost to life’s unending roar
Of plans that slip in vain through hands
And die swift deaths on foreign lands.

In the middle of the night, when all my failures gather ‘round.
You touch my hand and time stands still,
And the future looms on solid ground.

And sleep, that sly, evasive fox,
Curls up in my lap and claims his throne.
And I at last am king of slumber and you my restful home.

-BRUCE POTTS
COPYRIGHT 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED