Sleep, the hush in a hurried mind,
A velvet thread where dreams unwind.
You tiptoe in on silver wings,
Soft as lullabies silence sings.
You smooth the furrowed brow of care,
And lift the weight we didn’t know was there.
In folds of dusk, you gently sway,
The soul from noise to night’s ballet.
You’re the secret breath the stars exhale,
The poet’s ink, the traveler’s sail.
You cradle hearts in quiet grace,
And paint lost hopes on midnight’s face.
In your arms, the old grow young,
Regrets unspoken become unsung.
And lovers meet where clocks can’t tick,
In gardens grown from hours thick.
Yet you're a mystery cloaked in mist,
A fleeting dream the sun has kissed.
No promise made, no promise kept,
Still we return to where you’ve slept.
O gentle sleep, sweet thief of light,
Restore our bones, renew our sight.
For in your realm, both fierce and deep,
The soul remembers how to weep
Then wakes again, with strength to keep.
No comments:
Post a Comment