In the quiet of a solemn, sleepless night, Where shadows linger in the waning light, My weary eyes, they crave the tender close, The sweet surrender and the calm repose.
For hours stretch like endless, aching streams, Until dawn disrupts their fleeting beams. But hold, the night's embrace, it softly calls, Within its arms, the heavy eyelid falls.
O, to dance upon the twilight's brink, Where thoughts and stars in quiet wonder link. Yet eagerly I yearn for slumber's sweep, To plunge into the waiting arms of sleep.
For dreams await on plush, celestial shores, With whispered promises of open doors. Each breath, a lullaby, each heartbeat sings, Of realms beyond, unfurled on gossamer wings.
And lo, as sleep enfolds me in its grace, A tender hush descends upon my face. The morrow's hope, like phoenix, takes to flight, Born anew from the ashes of the night.
O dreams, my solace, through the deepest gloom, Your loving grasp prepares the day to bloom. In slumber's keep, the wearied spirit heals, And wakes to morning kissed with new zeal.
