Sleep

A twelve-day marathon of non-stop music teaching

And now it’s Sunday.

I could have slept late, but I didn’t.

At 6am, the sentences were swirling about to be placed

in the book that has waited patiently,

neglected amidst all the comings and goings.

If I stayed under the covers,

they would leave, never to come back.

So here I am, sleep still beckoning in its foggy way.

But the bright screen awaits the black shapes that speak

of the twelve days I have just lived,

hoping to guide others foolish enough to disturb their own sleep

by dancing down this beckoning path.