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Why is a raven like a writing desk?

Thoughts both confusing and enlightening.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

Thoughts both confusing and enlightening.

Journey to Bed

elbeno, 18 January, 200819 January, 2008

The house is quiet, completely dark
Except for one defiant spark
Which rails against the night’s embrace:
The screen illuminates my face.

The hour is late; my head is tired.
The stimulants which kept me wired
Have long since faded. Now instead
I think of turning in to bed.

I kill the light. My eyes protest
This sudden, unexpected test.
I scarcely need them; in my brain
The layout of my house is plain.

The corridor is to the right:
A gauntlet I must run each night
Where every floorboard’s heartless gaze
Surveys my pathway through his maze.

Each sentry waits to shout my name
If I should fail this nightly game
But I have played at this before:
I deftly pass and gain the door.

The danger here is not yet past;
I must negotiate the last.
The final task that lies ahead:
To reach the far side of the bed.

My presence somehow more than sound
Is now my enemy. Around
The bed I glide with silent speed
Before the sleeper pays me heed.

I shed my clothes, enter the warm
Beside my spouse’s sleeping form.
The steady breathing lets me know
That sleep is still the status quo.

So I relax and, slightly curled,
Let Morpheus take me from the world.
My thoughts ease their frenetic rate
And gently disassociate.

Poetry

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Comment

  1. Skye says:
    19 January, 2008 at 12:42 pm

    HAHAHAHAHAH!!!

    Love it!

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