Sleepless Imps

Sleeping on tides
Of nightmares
As waves of cheeky imps
Crash against the
Shores of time
Gouging holes in
The sandy coastline
Of long lost memories

Thunder strikes
On the hour
No matter what the clock
All is well
Though sleep declines
Under the smirk
Of a sarcastic moon
Peeking through cracks
In white net curtains
Not quite covering
The modesty of the night

Morning reveals
Eyes kissed
With velveteen bruises
Pale purple smudges
Painted dexterously
By mad insomniac beings
Who dance in delight
A whirling dervish exultation
Just out of sight
Behind the bruises
Locked within
The mind
Reflected in the mirror’s light

Copyright August 2013


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