The strains of wires unwound and coils uncoiled
Just let out a final sighing creak
A yawn, a heave, a moaning wretch of toil
Give way to gentle rhythmical mystique.
See how he breathes? So soft, so pure and free
From twitching time wound 'round the fields or
From guilt and shame and liabilities
- Responsibilities. Besides, he snores:
The night is yours at last once more to touch.
No restless shuffles loud wake him yet not
So quietly that the silence stirs him much,
Just breathe - inhale, exhale - join every dot.
Stop. Why do e'en near-silent exhaulted sighs
Induce suspicion: sleep; a peel of eyes?
