by Willard Simms

Created on: July 04, 2010   Last Updated: July 05, 2010

                     NIGHT

Sleep washes away mistakes and missteps.

Sweet dreams call when life seems most forlorn

And I drift on silken pillows of forgiving darkness

Into a land of soft pastels and sweet melodies.

But landscapes here are Dali-esque, without rules,

And sudden changes can melt away all harmonies.

So it is I find myself steering an out of control car

Watching the side mirrors scrape, then shear off,

Against the walled road narrowing in front of me.

Now I press hard on a non-working brake,

As I ricochet off a shard of harsh glaring light,

My hands frozen onto an unturning wheel.

Windows shatter into hard glass cobwebs,

As bumpers melt into smoke around me.

Radiator fluid etches lines in the windshield,

The stench of gasoline fills the cabin,

Steel rods are carving up into the dashboard,

Yet the broken machine still thrusts on!

If I could only crash – then this might end,

And consciousness, not sleep, bring rejuvenation.

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