When I Say Sleep, and You Sleep



When I say sleep, and as you sleep 
and you keep, as I stare at the sheep 

That line the barefoot parchment linen -- 
I go down to sleep,  though none is given. 

I go back to watching small sheep jump 
over imagined frosted hills, and then Thump! 

You roll out of the bed, your eyes white 
over, your back arches, with fingers tight 

In a form of claw, though I am quick -- 
not fast enough for the pen trick. 

I stand there in my dreamy stance, 
you move, helpless in a quiver dance -- 

As you slow to a freeze, and I stay 
by you, lay over my coat, as a ray 

of light peaks over the first mountain, 
the dawn has come, you blink, with no refrain. 

I gently help you back apon your feet, 
you walk out of the door, as I take a seat 

My breakfast will go cold, as I sleep 
In that cold chair, before woken by sheep.