The afternoons are fly-buzz drowsy now
The fans ignore us and, bored, turn away;
To lift this leaden heat, we know not how
Insects on the screen of a summer’s day
Your sleeping face teaches me to spell peace
I wonder what it is like to be breathed
Into your dreaming lungs, thus to increase
My courage, as your knight with sword unsheathed
Despite my sweaty, slothful cowardice
Can I fight through this dog’s mouth city
To find a cold gift of sufficient price
To boil to passion your tepid pity?
How obstinately solid is your sleep
While I struggle to popsicle vows keep
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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