I’ll be gone at morning
like moonglow beads on lashes
when the sun-warmed wood pops
frighten away the dears
Sadly it needn’t be so sad
Awaken by then or of course
this will be the last time,
yes, should you sleep it will be
Too much ado of the kiss,
where one lip daubs another
so fine
so
so long
till an evening somewhere, not yet
ahead of where we are right now
Sleep
just rest now
sleep
© Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 