Wise little lamb
Asked so politely
Permission to sleep
A safe little sheep
Without a care, asks
I stay quiet and tasks me
To watch for her security
The freedom to shift and stir and bleat
As she pleases through the seasons
Dimwitted sheep, she seems to
Ignore the pain in my eyes
I keep failing to disguise
Each time I stare
Down on her sleeping frame
In a silent statue game
She doesn't know
That I have a soul
That's tired and old
And needs peace she's
Taking from me
While she makes me keep
A vigil so broken that
Surely she'd see,
Tickled awake from the bloodlust
Dripping out my eyes, drooping eyes
With those big dark bags, like
A Coroner's luggage
Blind little lamb
Tired lamb
Sleeping lamb.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poems
PoetryHere's a relatively small collection of my most recent poems, all carefully picked and primped and preened for your perusal. I hope you enjoy them. It's a pretty wide variety.
