Sleeplessness swallows slumber, <br />to disencumber the mummer’s <br />fear of fear, fear of end of indian summer, <br />follows the night that swallows the night which swallowed nights without number. <br /> <br />Night melts into day <br />as the hours devour <br />life’s fragile flower <br />whose minute petals <br />peal peel away <br />as each second settles <br />one by one as one. Our stay - <br />be it floral bower, <br />or doomed to cower sour <br />behind bars metal, - <br />proves brief holiday <br />showing our mettle <br />pointless as the play <br />is doomed to nettle <br />disappoints, unsettles, <br />impotence empowers <br />as storm-clouds lower, <br />ends in both overstay, lost way. <br /> <br />Sleeplessness dismembers the mummer <br />who, hollow, in fear of fear, of doom’s drummer, <br />lumbers number and dumber tombwards, <br />on towards the night which swallows nights without number <br />it won't ward off.<br /><br />Jonathan ROBIN<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lost-way/
