My Little Helpers

In the light of present senses,
Emotions run and lapse through,
Sifted, often discouraged,
But they remain, and there they are.

The tranquil escape
In the form of tiny caplets
Of cheery colors and relaxing seductions;
I profit from their motives.

Think no more to give in;
Surrender to the form acquired
And be stolen away to rested sanctions;
Fear not the night and its blankets.

As dawn breaks, so does the spell.
No longer cast, I'm left to other devices
Of my own procuring; for my own resolve
I don't want to think anymore.


BACK