Sleeping

This poem is about gentle death at old age.

 

Sleeping

 

Slowly the sun sinks into the horizon,

Dusk has approached on velvet paws, silent.

Shadows creep out, from behind rocks and trees.

A thick fog crawls across the water.

Hiding a reflection of the stars above.

The world slipping into darkness,

Nothing moves nothing makes a sound.

 

On the beach waves lap softly, unheard.

A woman walks gracefully across the sand.

Each footprint slowly washed away.

The moon lights the way, penetrating fog.

Silently she recollects her day.

Passing over each moment tenderly.

 

Coming to a soft hammock she pauses,

As if checking over a list of chores.

Until satisfied with each task's completion.

Then carefully edging across the creaking ropes and lying still.

She is rocked by the last summer breeze.

Soft, moist, and warm, like a loving whisper.

And the hammock floats away.

Silent as the grave.

Author's Note

I know it has very little structure, but I find that forcing the motive or purpose into a mold ruins it.

Reviews

[Yuko]

Very haunting and beautiful poem. You did a very good job with it. Somewhat very sad too. I like it.