Sleep
Its not that late, but its kind of late.When I turn off the light I hesitate.
I'm only the least bit exhausted.
And I still have some writing to do.
I have a little energy left but
I turn off the switch and sleep instead.
Sleep
Its not that late, but its kind of late.Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
Unknown Source
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.