Thursday, July 2, 2009

My crispy sheets white linen bed


Crisp sheets air-cooled in darkness lie.
Pillows, like clouds, my head surround.
Floating above the sheets I fly
To sleep, perchance, to dream profound.

My life asleep apart from wake
Lives in a fiction prose I read;
But what is real is when I make
My crispy sheets white linen bed.



revised and linked to from the Poets United prompt, Sanctuary (Aug 6, 2010)