Siesta
Almost asleep, in the pin drop of her room
The wit of the world is a secret she keeps
Eyes at half moons with a dream on their wings
A flurry of pretty thoughts shoot into bloom
Small twitching hands writing the skies with her name
Dreams filled with gestures enormously grand
Cool afternoon against the house walls
Air with a bite of a nip in mid-June
Calms her to sleep in seconds flat split
Off to the clouds with the counting of sheep
Lazy odd smile I catch as I pass
I think I just might nap for awhile
Siesta break as I melt into liquid
A gift of unwinding when nothing’s at stake
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