Sleep reclines beneath my eyes,
lies across my face like leaves
sit upon the surface of a lake,
unbroken, mirror like.
Sleep remains inside me,
holds me like a dying tree
contains the ragged leaves,
brilliant, swirling tatters.
Many falls, so long ago,
I fell asleep with ease.
The lake was unruffled
by the wind in the trees.
I would sleep now, if I could.
I would recall a thousand leaves,
a thousand blue and blasted falls.