If I weren't sleep-deprived (courtesy of everyone's favorite time of year) I would have composed an original poem and called it "The Daylight Savings Time Blues." Maybe I'll be capable of doing that next week. Maybe.
In the meantime, someone else's ode to sleep will have to do. Thank you, Frank Mitalsky.
by Frank Mitalsky
The thing that I would keep and keep
The dearest thing to me, is sleep.
Sleep that comes like waving wheat,
And bounds away on rabbit-feet.
Sleep fragrant as an angel's breath,
That swings so near, so far, from death.
Lovely Linda at TeacherDance has the Poetry Friday round up today.
(Photo courtesy of Jay Mantri at Pixabay.)