Sleepy

The sandman’s dust, is a distant dream,

It’s a well-rested thought, it would seem.

My body craves for a quiet space,

To banish shadows from out of my face.

I long for relaxation, meditation deep and long,

Where worries cease to be so strong.

But weariness, a very heavy cloak,

It clings to my limbs, like a stubborn yoke.

To drift off on waves of ease,

And wake refreshed, under the trees.

But now, I fight the drooping head,

And wish for sleep, in a soft, warm bed.