if I could have
delivered you from your
biggest worry and
make the day all come forward
to the point where you finally relax
and make an assurance
that we are going exactly nowhere
and you recognize where you want to be
after a few glorious sunbeams
and a hundred or so
breezes that come up a forest hill
but soon you picture yourself under blanket
reliving your flower of last nights cocoon
plenty of the gain of no muscle usage
in a tiny set of wings that often flutter open
but for now the rock of not much body momentum
is what needs to be
and another quiet voice begins singing
the slow slinky tone of
each and every of tomorrows yesterdays
beneath a quest for silent naps that
register on every scale
and grow so many levels
that every minute of valued deep
tasty lovely sighing slumber…

About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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