James Bessant Words
Thoughts of a Dad who is parent first, second and third whilst everything else comes after...
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Thursday, 19 March 2015
Sleep
Were I to sleep
I would dream
Of waking up to pens
Of trapped sheep
Bleating their insistence
To leap
Over fences
Their wool would
Nuzzle me
Like blankets and keep
Me warm in the heavy deep
Of a grateful sleep
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