It’s now past midnight,
it’s time to sleep.
Heart a bang drumming, slowing, boom
boom
boom.
Eyes closing like bloodroots, at the loss of the sun,
dreams staining lovers minds,
while restless
nights bring open dreams, nottinghams that
bloom, creep up castle walls.
We seek brahma kamal, Bhima’s quest and elusive bloomer,
wish fulfiller, dream
supplier.
Death’s denier.
Writer Moe 