The clock holds not enough hours
in its day for the exploit of
this life as we choose to have it,
so we pilfer from the night spell
and become accustomed warmly
to little sleep where dreams are far
more vivid - trembling in their
ephemerality - sparkling
and waking to the cracking sun
on waves through blinds and cat whiskers
to our "dream within a dream" is
waking to your arms cocooning
and golden eyes with your always
smile, and more not enough hours.

* * *

"Sleep, that deplorable curtailment of the joy of life."

- Virginia Woolf