Ode to siesta

Odes

Fatigue creeps up on me

like a hungry bitch after lunchtime

looking for scraps of dreams

and pillow feathers to cling on.

She invites me to her bed,

warm and soft,

and gently kisses my eyelids

to a lingering state of limbo.

I let myself go between fragments

of whatifsĀ and havetos

until I lose control.

It’s quite the fiesta,

if you know what I mean.

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