Softer – A Poem

Wild fire on ice
my cheek to pillow
sleep seems like
a half a sheep away
even though
my mind refuses
to just let go

Though it seems close
like a staircase
of pastel clouds and
even my thought-prints
are weary / I ascend
slowly to that softer
place of peace
where there are
no more racing worries
no haste, no doubt
& everything slows down //

to a softer place of dreams

Gretchen Leary 2013