However, as of recently, I have been overcome by a desire to write. Since I have this blog, I find it only appropriate that I share one of these with you, and you all can tell me what you think. Am I a poet?
The Resting Place
The arms of the most ardent lover cannot compete
with the feeling of being bundled in sheets
and blankets.
This bed,
She is my mother.
I sprang forth from her cotton and springs
She swaddles me warmly every night
as though it were the very first.
This place,
It always feels like home.
I am one with. It
Smells. So sweet,
Just like me. I am home.
There is something to be said
About what one sees
When one sees nothing at all,
Save for the cool,dark back
Of the eyelid.
What wonders linger there?
Waiting each moment for the return of
a dreaming soul
Sloth, how divine a sin thou art!
These plump pillows of ecstasy
Caresses me to most coveted apathy
Until I may rest in peace.