The dreamers — they
all lie in wait,
backs arched to meet
the swollen sky.
Sparrows buzz about
their heads,
singing sweet, dead
lullabies.
The dreamers — they
refuse to wake,
eyes pinched against
the stretching dawn.
Sparrows peck against
their lids,
until the stubborn
sleeper yawns.
© 2015 Stellular Scribe
Stellular Scribe 