my eyelids wilt
with the wintering of the day
it withers my encasement
fragile like a half-burned slip of parchment paper
still lit
blithely whispering to its allies - the ashes
as each caress the silk slumber-time sky
and it calls my name
the nighttime
it beckons for me to belong to its embrace
i hesitate
i wait
my resistance breaks and i -
i fall
my lashes drop
the dullness before the deep, deeper, deepest darkness
of sleep
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