take me now to that place
where I may know rest,
for I am tired
and my body aches
with the cares of the day -
let my mind rest easy
that my body may heal,
keep my troubles caged
and my burdens weightless
that I might know sleep
and better face
the worries of a new day.
Month: August 2020
Middle Age
the day beats down in heavy waves leaving me gasping, wasted as I set out to sweat out this mess that I have become the challenge: to find who I was - those ideals I held close, the dreams I reached for - before I gave into life's pleasures and turned into this mess I have become my knees echo with the ache of days gone by, as my back reminds me of brazen choices of youth, and old wounds ache with the coming rains, I am determined not to accept this mess I have become.
Morning Rain
from the safety of deepest sleep I arise into the darkness of morning; the sheets beckon me, stretching tousled fingers pleading for my returning - raindrops drum their hypnotic melody on the glass and I am tempted to answer the call of the welcoming sheets as these are the nights for which my body aches - crying out for the rhythmic comfort; Mother's song on the glass soothing the torrents of the mind allowing me, for one night, to rest though these nights are rare - my heart would take me back - my tired mind knows the score: the demons of guilt will torture me if I forsake work for sleep, even just a few minutes more.