Fish

Fish
My babies - last of the Mohiccans

Saturday, August 10, 2019

Bedtime Stories


Sleep, she ain't a coming
though I wait expectantly,
Yearning for her warmth
to take me willingly.

Dream, she must be waiting
to drown me incessantly,
Will she come or tarry,
Is she reality.

Tell, she wants to be knowing
when  slumber shadows my mind,
How do I share my feeling
with thoughts of her kind?

Kill, she yearns for dying
with everything I share,
Till the Ocean is drying
for her I'll always care.

Tales, are meant for telling
as busy as she may be,
Eyes are always crying
to see what I can't see.

Questions, about understanding
pour out inquisitively,
A mind that keeps on searching
will seek until eternity.

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