Poem By Sarah Eve

There was a time I’d sleep each night a full eight hours
And in the morning feel tired as when sleep had just begun
It was the summoning of twigs and watercolours
Mocked my waking moments, clasps undone

And the misty thoughts of dreams perched on each eyelash
Weighed down upon insistent rays of sun
Without a cloak to shield from boiling stains of rain
They ate cherries, wild and softly humming, “here it comes”

It’s tough to know how hard to bow your head to valleys
Or how far to reach your arms into the sky
The farmer in me lays down in the corn fields
I cannot know what heights or peaks await in milky eyes

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