Rest After the Overnight

I woke at 4 this morning, after 6
unbroken hours fast asleep in bed,
to see the dark of rain on wood and bricks.
I hadn’t heard its patter overhead.
My slumber was too solid – I was dead
to interruption, deep in dreaming rest.
I smiled and returned to sleep instead
(the night before was for a 4ish guest).


This entry was posted in Aging, Home, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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