The Dreamers

The dreamers — they
all lie in wait,
backs arched to meet
the swollen sky.
Sparrows buzz about
their heads,
singing sweet, dead
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

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