portraits of old,
the reclining flesh of women and men
on lush oceans of velvet.
today, mother reclines
with a ruby red cape about her shoulders
napping in her favorite chair
with the newspaper fallen to the floor.
the six pound 3 legged dog creature
sprawls in the sun by the door,
great swaths of sunlight through the glass
and onto the oriental carpet.
I am vertical, but wistfully remember my
in the soft warm bed
that moved me to hit snooze three times (a record).
naps with dogs on the chilly back porch
of my grandparents' house;
lazy afternoons in the arms of a lover;
cuddling up with my baby after her fill of mother's milk;
head bobbing to the beat of the train
racing south along the coast while I dozed ever so lightly.
All of life's moments in repose
throughout the ages,
we succumb to our sleep
even the bloody trenches of our wars.
The world outside left behind
while the life of the mind explodes,
or rests silently,
waiting for the next waking dream.