Unable to sleep, I thought I'd share these two short poems about our dog, Lucy, that came to mind while I await the sandman's arrival.
I
The Puppy's warmth,
curled up in my lap,
puts me to sleep.
I'm not allowed to read a book
or simply sit; her long,
luxuriant warmth,
strecthed upon my chest,
or draped across my neck,
makes my eyes droop -
until I snore.
II
Why can't I sleep?
The Puppy's warmth,
snuggled next to me,
has no effect -
her delicious elixir of drowsiness
all spent up.
I toss and turn,
until,
divorced from rest,
I get up,
put my contact lenses in,
scratch my head
and begin to write.
Talk to you soon,
BB
Quote for the Day: Poetry is something more philosophical and more worthy of attention than history. (Aristotle)
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