Stealing a second to collapse in my chair, <br /> Famished for rest from everyday care, <br /> Drawing the worn cloak of weariness around <br /> to escape the rigors of stereo sound; <br /> Oh to be embalmed in perfumes of peace, <br /> suspending my spirit in unconscious release<br /><br />Ethel K. Meyer-Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/solitude-34/
