Tired eyes and tired faces
Walk along to tired places
Early yet, we shuffle and sway
It’s only the beginning of a boring day
But moments ago, or so it seems
We were all alone in dreams
Weightlessness and breathy breaths
Something close to bliss and death
Each night we lay our heads to rest
Or morning, noon, our eyes would suggest
“A nap” we’d say, and lay bodies down
“A nap” would end in yawns and frowns
For when you let sleep creep in
He’ll consume you from within
Suddenly you’re paralyzed
No alarm, sound, or push could revive
Those deep in sleep, once sleep deprived
It’s not you it’s me! I say
When I don’t let him in
There are things to do
These things I’m knee deep in
And if I let my brown eyes close
He’d take my things and let them go
My coffee cup is all I know…
Abigail Koerner (ajkoerner@college.harvard.edu) writes poetry, but not always while sleepy.