In the quiet of my nights,
I must lay my head to rest,
In the realm of slumber
my dreams I must caress.
Yet as I drift away
to a world of sublime,
I'm haunted by the pain
of running out of time.
Sleep, some fleeting refuge where my fantasies bloom,
Yet I find myself yearning for more hours,
more time to consume.
The night is my canvas where wishes take flight,
But in the arms of Morpheus,
I long for more of my nights.
Each fleeting moment,
like grains through the glass,
I grasp at the hours that slip by so fast.
In the depths of my dreams,
I'm held close in their sway,
But I wake up to find
They've simply faded away.
The night's gentle embrace,
some temporal shore,
I ache for its calmness,
for moments galore.
To savor the silence,
the peace that it brings,
But dawn breaks too soon,
and the songbird now sings.
In my morning's first light,
I'll yearn for the past,
To recapture the hours,
to make them outlast.
The pain of sleeping,
where wishes reside,
Is the longing for moments
I wish to confide.
Yet time marches onward,
And so must I
Because the pain of sleeping,
where my longing does rhyme,
I'll cherish each moment,
make the most of my time.