PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

At times I work and strive quite late,

To complete or send' by a certain date.

Re-arranging, pondering, wondering out-a-loud,

In the effort to pick-up and put something down.



Curved into my keyboard sometimes quite bent,

On a result that may sometimes never be sent,

In a thickening haze that grows through the night,

Which is only redeemed by bright morning light.



But upon this wearied wretch forlorn,

There be a crowning in the morn,

Or moreover a relief that mortals know,

When I finally realize I can no longer go.



There be a place just by my side,

Where I do delve in blessed respite,

That has warmed a possum through the night,

From the wants and needs that do divide.



O' possum you have slept a time,

But I shan't awake you from your recline.

I breathe a curse for my thoughts aloud,

And I gaze upon the possum gal.



O' possum in your curvaceous build,

I wouldn't want it to catch a chill,

So I edges the quilt; awkward but steady,

Quick and quietly in' as to sleep I be ready,



As the birds of a new day briskly cheep,

Next to my possum to sleep I creep,

As trying gently to wrap around,

An arm that too long has work been bound.



The soundless slumber like a silent pearl,

Takes me away to a forested world,

Of rivers and trees and valleys and hills,

That be covered with a murmured still.



Then we leap like gazelles and glide like a breeze,

Within these places of dream relief,

Whilst in reality together in bed we are curled,

A monkey and his possum girl.