Sommeil avec la poet

While others sleep with the enemy
I lay in comfort next to the epitome
of life and art. Of words that never die
but sounds that illuminate throughout the night
Of dreams that are brought to life
by words bouncing off the walls to horizontal lines with no extremities
I lay awake to see what peace have taken over
What difference the face of the artist portrays
when calm takes over. As new life
gathers inside the quiet soul,
the old expel as mere words could.
And each breath represents a stanza of love
In my mind I write a poem for the poet
Unlike the poet, I'm unfortunate to carry a pad with me
whenever with thoust...

One day, like the words the poet creates
when late at night restlessness take over,
it is I who would become the poet
and the poet, my poem.
Pea