Gaps in curtains not pulled tight,
where street light slips in silently.
An intermittent whoosh of traffic;
a strange kind of lullaby for a sleepy-head.
Covers tucked round heavy limbs,
day-worn and hungry for rest.
Eyelids flicker open one last time,
before sleep pervades and the world is black.
Thought and memory slumber too, until morning light.
Writing with Amanda’s wonderful prompts, today’s is ‘soothing’.