Lamp-lit shadows, a silent world,
A vista that twilight unfurled,
Soft and slow these fancies creep,
As tired eyes struggle for sleep.
Half-thought whims, memories of today,
Keep that elusive dreamland at bay,
A to-do list or a haunting song –
The words of which are remembered wrong.
Some idea that seems to guarantee –
Success, so convincingly,
The clause, alas! that weary feet –
Must get up now, to follow suite.
Else a half-forgotten story,
So suspenseful, or so gory,
That threatens a quiet, tranquil mind
Through imagined horrors of every kind.
Till weary eyelids finally blink –
One last time, only to sink
Into that blessed, restful sleep,
Which the worthy merit, and the wretched seek.