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Vagabond Sleep

written during a sleepless night

Oct 12, 2001

Wandering between the wrinkles
   in the sheets
My mind chews
   on the tattered rags of stress.

Vagabond, furtive, recalcitrant;
   Sleep is a prey to be hunted.

Time is unsympathetic,
   Intellectual and yawning,
Ensconced in the smug repose
   of easy victory.

Twisted under rumpled covers,
   a pillow becomes
A battle ground; bruised and cratered
   with the aftermath
   of violence.

Mercenaries with advertisements
   of surefire solutions
Shamelessly hawk their wares:
   "Medicines; elixirs; late night tv."
   All are bunk.

Each night is an adventure
   with waterlogged boots
   and a missing map.

Sleep, however,
   is a tramp with no gumption.
Huddled at a cold fire,
   Weary; slurring his words,
   He confesses defeat,

Tempered by a parting shot
   hurled with consummate brass.

"What took you so long?"

Peter Falkenberg Brown is passionate about writing, publishing, public speaking and film. He hopes that someday he can live up to his favorite motto: “Expressing God’s kind and compassionate love in all directions, every second of every day, creates an infinitely expanding sphere of heart.”

~ Deus est auctor amoris et decoris. ~


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Peter Falkenberg Brown
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