I drift alone ‘til I wake

I sleep at noon when suns turn blue or bright white in summers ash

It is a luxury, I do avail, unless I should take on some tasteless, hourly work

of which someone lesser, or at least younger than I, might take

For midday sleep is reward for hours, days, weeks and years of toil

For homes, children, bills and such

and all these concerns disappear when I close my eyes, mute my senses and drift alone ‘til I wake