Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Counting Sheep

I was awake last night
And what did I hear?
Nothing, nothing, nothing
It was nothing I fear.

For I love the late sounds
In the wee of the night.
Be it the wind through the trees
Or my neighbors who fight.

The rain pattering softly
Or the cars whizzing by.
Grand is each hour
I listen, when in bed I lie.

For when I give in
As I drift off to sleep.
The sounds are enacted
Performed in my sleep.


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