Witness

So sweet the face betrayed by saddened eyes--
Such melancholy time has etched indelibly,
Even written unto sleep.

Do fattened dreams lie supine in your mind,
Exorcised from expectations,
Seldom seen again, save in times of pondered whimsy?

I, entranced by such subtle sleeping form, and sighs,
Would weep, intent to fathom visions hidden deep.
Does such a soul that treads the day with trepid steps
Still dare to dream in slumber--
Or do I witness Circadian surrender?

If this should be the last those eyes should flutter,
I pray your dreams fly free in final whimsy.