bedtime 7pm
like a child
tucked in droopy-lidded
the sound of night traffic still
flashing through the window blind slats
My hands hold
gently a book between them
the intentions good
one story before bed
a few pages
inspiration
a chapter perhaps.
It rests most comfortably
aside
I let downy pillows cup my thoughts
fall as I must into their reverie.
Changes take me and I give into warm blankets
fallen leaves long decomposed
bedcover burrows
thickening thoughts
slowing limbs
winterlight~