Do fall, succumb while reading,
a great black owl softly,
sleep folds its wings
descending on your shoulder.
A tasteless woolen glove
choke, plunge the reason
deep, till there are only,
listless lips and limbs.
No dreams here to report
just emptiness and cold,
more sad, than lonely howl
of a wolf at night.
Soft leather of the armchair,
temptation of sweet honey glue
that safely seals,
please paralyze my eyes.
The dive as deep as sky
on autumn equinox,
it burns the mind,
the conscious nailed shut.
The waking ,like a gulp
of wild laughing gas,
you break the surface,
wishing you have not.
Asleep in an Armchair
© Copyright: Даниил Яник, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107030400451
Свидетельство о публикации №107030400451
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