Therapy Bits

When morning’s blaze has softened into gray,
And hum of life grows distant, calm, and deep,
I fold my thoughts, let wandering dreams delay,
And sink into the tender arms of sleep.

No trumpet calls, no clock with jealous chime
Disturbs the peace that slumbers in my chest;
The world forgets to measure out its time,
And I, its weary pilgrim, find my rest.

O blissful theft of hours, sweet, stolen grace,
Thou balm that mends the mind’s unquiet seam,
In thy soft shade all labors lose their place,
And daylight drifts like petals through a dream.

Awake, refreshed, I greet the world anew—
A nap so long it feels like life’s debut.