Death By Sleep

He did not wake that morning
for he had not yet slept.
She, since sleeping
like a tree in winter,
woke before the alarm clock.
Unable to clear the clouds
of sleep starved confusion
he chose to wake the car instead.
Like a recharged battery
she decided to use her refound fuel.
Take a walk upon the sleepy streets
before they overflowed with life.
Down many a repetetive road
past blurry churches,
shadowed shops, frozen fields
and echoing tunnels he travelled
as light became more distant.
She sang to the birds
and they sang back.
She welcomed the not yet morning air,
as it teased and carresed her uncombed hair.
He had not long left the tunnel
yet the light still ebbed away.
Just before his lids anchored
he swore he saw a figure in the fading light.
She was found star fish shaped on the street
He was recognised only by his tattoo.
Sleep had found them both
a curse and a blessing.
An intertwining tale of light and dark.

by Not Long Left

Comments (1)

This poem makes one picture the event - of Death by Sleep. Death is as unique as the individual who is experiencing it. I can almost relate with this. Very interesting and sad. Withdrawal from the world & people. Oh yes, thanks for the comments on my 2 poems. You certainly are a deep person. Michele Kostelnik The mind is a strange thing.