I thought,
assumed,
I had turned the lamplight off.
However,
upon awakening the bulb still glowed,
burning.
How foolish,
such a simple startling fact,
The first item my tired eyes rest upon.
Why can I never,
at least accurately remember,
any final thoughts residing,
restless whispers of worlds,
full yet fleeting,
with which I share my slumbering state?
Lucidity,
a cool drink of water.
fischerb@stolaf.edu
