The House Sleeps

poem by: Elizabeth J White
Written on Apr 24, 2015

The house seems to be sleeping, the old floors
seem as though snoring while the wind howls and the wood creaks, the old planks seem to be breathing.
The roof seems as a blanket to cover the house from the might strong wind. Oh the old house is all tucked in for the night.
But I am wide awake in a dim lit room with just a coal oil light. Gears are turning spinning , soaring around in my head. I cant' slow the thoughts that come like oceans rushing waves blasting across the rocks . Powerful , magnificent, nothing can stop them. I know they are good
I know there is a reason I keep saying in my brain. Visions
of things I want to create, when I have a surface and a brush, just tonight I need to sleep, turn off the thoughts for their is no rush. But unlike the house, the house nestled in for the night, I'm wider awake than I have ever been, I know I need to rest, but will sleep come for me.
I need to take a lesson from the house that sleeps
for this person is wide awake , and the house gives me the creeps

 

Tags: weird,

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A previous user commented:
Ahhh you have a connection. To the super natural.
Elizabeth J White commented:
ty

 

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