A Want Of Sleep

11 Apr


Take these roses from off my door,
they do wither and wane too deep;
these sentiments, have I no more,
no more respite, no rest in sleep;
no strings of garland on my grave,
let me lie without such floral array;
no marker, no emblem, no stave,
let me sleep alone, as it is my way;
for in death, as in life, shall I find
that respite I have always sought;
let me sleep, if you be truly kind,
to rest, ‘ere my dreams be wrought.

Leave a comment

Posted by on April 11, 2016 in My Poetry



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: