Sleep plays with my eyelashes,
like kite string,
tugging at them
to bring lids to a close,
but for the past few days
I've practiced the art of losing sleep
by dancing with words
instead of counting sheep.
String turns to rope
and they begin to play
a game of tug of war
that could go either way.
At first the words are powerful
but sleep has experience
so it waits with some patience
while they push, fight and tumble.
Soon, some words fall asleep,
and then my head turns to wool,
and sleep just has to make
one strong, last little pull
and then I'll know it has won,
because tonight I'll dream
of sheep flying kites
or words dancing with sheep.