Poetry

My Soul to Keep

Now I lay me down to sleep eight hours of every night I slip into unconsciousness and skip one third of every day I keep in darkness counting secret sheep a third of life is lost to dreaming turned and dreamless tossed I pray the Lord my soul to keep my sixty year old bones are bare forty in the light the other twenty spent beneath a cover oblivious it’s hardly fair if I could ration down to four those hours each night I forsake if I should die before I wake four extra hours would give more life awake…

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