The blue tinted computer screen
lulls her to dull wakefulness.
She sweeps her fingers along the keyboard,
with all the seeming finesse of a pianist.
Words, built block by block, begin
to frame a series of thoughts-
bare and skeletal in it's half-sleeping form.
Paragraphs are worn out and frayed-
'will this be enough', she'd say.
There’s no answer in the dead of the night.
She tries her best to keep sleep at bay.
The mind is so clean,
that one can see reflections on it's surface.
As night drags on, even the floorboards
drone and groan under the moonbeams.
Any moment now and she'll be lost
to thoughtless sleep, as kindness knocks
gently at her bedroom door,
just to see if she's quiet okay.
There she sits at her desk, nodding away
the night in warm, blue, quite pale moonlight.
Kindness wonders if he should stay
and watch her fall asleep,
or help her to her bed, at least.
She has to handle heavy workloads
that strain every thought at intense
levels of stress, locked
by an unhelpful set of keys sought
on off-nights to relieve the unbearable monotone
Yet, as she strains, she manages to maintain in plain
text the thoughts she was attempting to construct
since before night overtook the day.
Satisfied, she makes a way for fitful sleep.
Simple, soulful, sleep.
Image source:google
Thanks for dropping by..
xoxo,
lynn
