Desk

Desk

Dreamy

Willing to try new things

Peaceful

Hates wars

Desk

Sleeping is the time of day I love most,

I’ll sleep whenever I can,

Where ever I can,

At my desk at work,

On the chair in my home,

On the bus, waiting to get off,

In my soft warm bed,

I’ll sleep,

Relax,

Peacefully,

With my head on my pillow,

I’ll sleep,

And escape to another reality,

Where there’s handsome men,

And,

Beautiful ladies,

Trees, and cows,

Riches, and poors,

I’ll sleep,

Making my new reality,

Escaping anywhere,

But here,

I’ll escape to a life,

Where there are no chains,

No rocks holding me down,

No rain keeping me in,

Only sun

And shine,

And fresh fruit

With golden tastes

And rosemary aromas,

I’ll sleep,

But I won’t need to close my eyes,

I’ll sit at that desk,

I’ll be at home sitting back on that chair,

Or,

 I’ll be on that bus,

Waiting to get off,

I’ll sleep,

Seeing all the possibilities,

That are just beyond my fingers,

But that aren’t beyond my leap.

That leap,

Isn’t far away,

That depth,

Isn’t too deap,

That leap,

Isn’t too high,

Leaping is easy,

Its landing that’s hard,

Not knowing,

What your landing on,

Nor why,

Not knowing,

If its soft,

Or hard,

Yet,

Call me strange,

Call me dumb,

Call me weird,

Call me normal,

Call me everything,

Under the sun,

This is what I like,

This is who I am,

Making new things

Old,

And old things ancient,

After all a breath is only worth taking,

If it’s used.

War and peace,

Was a book,

A fictional story,

That I don’t need to tell,

That I don’t need to read,

I live it,

I am it,

I am not that type,

To fight,

And decry those actions of others,

I am not that type,

To argue,

Or to hurt,

I am not that type,

To send my friends,

My country men,

To die,

When there’s so many things,

To live for,

I’m not that type,

To see pain,

Dripping off peoples faces,

Disappearing into the gutters.

However,

I am that type,

To lay in the grass,

The sun above my head,

The flowers in my hair,

The Beetles in my ears,

I am that type,

To smile,

Looking at a leaf,

Touching the ground,

On one side,

It’s brown,

On the other side,

It’s green,

I’m that type,

Who will see the ant’s,

Marching past,

My eyes,

Following them,

Carefully dodge,

The fallen stalks,

And climb the small rocks,

I’m the type,

To sleep on the grass,

In that field,

On a hot summers day,

With a smile on my face,

With the wind,

Gently kissing my face.