The Saviour

When the cruel, uncaring world, after a tiring day of torturous turmoil, pushes me down to the bottom of the filthy dark pit of life.

And as I lie – bruised, beaten and helpless.


Your hand rests on my wrinkled forehead, softly soothing my troubled brow.

Your lips kissing my weary eye-lids,

And then gently holding my hand in yours you take me to the land of bubbling brooks and blooming blossoms.

Adding a pleasant interlude to the brutal interlude of struggle.

Thank you…Sleep!

The savior of wretched souls.


When You Are Sleeping

When she's sleeping

When you are sleeping

I love to watch you

To tuck away the few errant strands of hair

on your cheeks behind your ear

and run my hands over on your cheeks and forehead.


Now don’t get me wrong

And don’t ask me to say sorry

It’s not that I don’t like you awake

but your being asleep is something special


In those quiet moments, I feel blessed and content

You look so peaceful when you are sleeping

that I feel peaceful just by looking at you


Perhaps we should show pictures

of you sleeping on the TV

– Our contribution to world peace.


I often wonder about your dreams

Your dreams must be fun too

Of small happiness’s and little disappointments perhaps


Wish I could climb behind your closed eyelids and watch those dreams with you

like in a cinema hall

Just you and me


So again, don’t get me wrong,

And don’t ask me to say sorry

I love you awake

But I love you a wee bit more

When you are sleeping.



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