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Whitacre, Eric - Sleep

 

Sleep


The evening hangs beneath the moon
A silver thread on darken dune
With closing eyes, and resting head
I know that sleep is coming soon

Upon my pillow, safe in bed
A thousand pictures fill my head
I can not sleep my minds aflight and yet my limbs seem made of lead

If there are noises, in the night
A frightening shadow, flickering light
As I surrender unto sleep

Where clouds of dream, give second sight

What dreams may come both dark and deep,
Of flying wings and soring leap
As I surrender unto sleep
Unto sleep
Sleep


 


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