Sleep got
sweet and deep last night
when just two
minutes past eleven
dropped (anthropomorphically)
upon your
lids and lips a blip
of blue translucent
heaven, Brucie! –
come to
pillow and to billow you –
to leaven
dreams – to goose them high
aloft so that
they’d waft beyond
the usual
annoying schemes with
which they
would have pestered you
sans blue translucent Brucie’s help:
they slipped as
if from yelp
to almost-whispered
song, and lasted
just as long
as songs should last –
until the darkness
passed, the dawn
came through and you came to.
.
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