Eight hours of sleep,
Half for sweet dreams,
half cannot be seen.
Kringggggg!
Is it succubus from my new year sleep?
Rays hit me from the window,
A sumptuous sun in front of me!
You are real!
And this is your natural largesse.
(Photo is not mine)
YOU ARE READING
Hang - Leave
PoetryHanging for something is a choice and it depends; if you will leave or if they will leave you. (c) Kit Sandoval for the wonderful Cover 😎
