Sleep lies caught up in the curtains, in day times; <br />Curled in on itself, against the brightness of the day, <br />Squinting among the abandoned dreams from last night, <br />Still lying scattered, like discarded New Year's decorations. <br /> <br />The prying eyes of the awakened world are trying, straining <br />To peer through each pinhole, of the loose linens's weave- <br />And the hands- sudden hands that clutch and move the stiff fabric aside- <br />More dream than real- are gone in a flash, as if they never were. <br /> <br />A variegated lightning storm passes among the panes <br />With each cars headlights, tail lights; <br />Flashing a warning against late sleepers, in a constant migrainiers Morse code. <br /> <br />Now the rain comes tap-tapping on the windows, <br />As if trying to awaken bleary-eyed Sleep, <br />From its sacrilegious habit of napping. <br />The thunder seems to moan distinctly; a far off deliciousness, <br />Murmuring about laze-a-beds, who never amount to anything.. <br /> <br />Birds are busy outside, their beady eyes jumping <br />Looking for tidbits, left-overs of night terrors; <br />A crumb from the anachronisms of constellations now invisible, <br />Back from the days when they were called terrible lizards, <br />As the night owls hide their heads beneath their wings. <br /> <br />The janitor appears to sweep all the glitzy remnants away- <br />Some caught, some still crinkly, still iridescent with stars- <br />In his rake, in his brooms- <br />He trails the glittery fallen stars all the way to the dumpster <br />And deposits them there, to wait for the regenerating effects of sunset. <br /> <br />And sleep stretches, then; yawns indigently, and starts to stir itself finally. <br />A surfeit of dreams has been building all day, <br />Hidden from the brilliant contaminant of sun, <br />Peaking the mammal's melatonin, <br />Preparing to fill all the light with shadow, instead: <br />Soon the curtain comes down once more..<br /><br />Patti Masterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sleep-and-other-anachronisms/
