Sleep

Night falls,
And Mother Earth
Nestles you
In her gentle womb,
Dark, silent. Safe.
Draped over yourself,
You rest there Peacefully.
You, her cherished
Nurtured fosterling.
Your lashes shutter,
And the dreams
Are faint shadows,
Rambling outside,
Sieving through
To your retreat.
Midnight hour,
You encounter
That kind of peace,
Drowned in mists,
Floating suave,
In sweet oblivion.
This is where
Inspiration awakens

Lisa Torcato
May 2016