On the outside sleeping,
oh so quietly
in satin and flannel,
poured out over the mattress
like a puddle of molasses
in the middle of its waffle.
Nothing moves. Not a whisper.
Just the veriest little rising and falling,
half a centimeter at most.
But on the inside---
wildest profusion of terrible nonsense-talking,
guffawing at inappropriate moments of great solemnity,
shrieking and cackling, spinning and crashing.
chaotic questions, head-shaking worries.
And the stupid sheep keep slipping--
slamming the fence with their heads.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Do I have to wake up to get some sleep in here?
Sunday Scribblings
5 comments:
The problem would be Dad's snoring. It's causing the chaos; count on it.
You've got a whole lot on your mind, not to mention what babystepper commented on.
I really do like the picture of the sheep. Are they wearing harnesses?
Now this is really weird. I got the picture from the internet somewhere and it had the exact quality I wanted --dreamlike. Sheep jumping over a fence, barely clearing it, coming straight toward me. After I read your comment I enlarged the picture to see it better. Weird. They are wearing backpacks--those kind of children's backpacks that have little stuffed animals attached. It really makes for a weird dream...fits better than I thought with my crazy dreams. ha ha.
How funny - I didn't notice the backpack on the sheep. I never could count them, anyway! Cute post!
oh this was a really nice post, and such a fun ending...thanks for sharing.
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