Sleep alights

dreaming tree

Bring the sky a little closer,

cross the winner's tape,

breathe.

Lighten aching shoulders, back, thighs,

until I reach a child's forgetfulness of this day's work.

Breathe.

Sighs, in the chrysalis of sleep, become songbirds

a metamorphosis so desired,

I fly.

And what remains of my flight when I rise,

are two hopeful eyes,

rested limbs,

and

a breath.

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