My feet are cold

My feet are cold, it takes a good while to arrange them under my sheets

My toes are chilly, I expect it will take another while before I can get some sleep

Let me seep in some semblance of warmth, content to be waiting right below

the pale reflection of the finite sky, thinly glazing the tilted window


Meanwhile ,the Monster under my bed chews on his late night snack

I take comfort in the familiar sounds over there

Whether he will devour me later well, if I can be honest, I admit I simply do not care

I agree it’s rather foolish to be so passive but, then again, is a wise man known to worry?

Because even though I know it’s most certainly massive, I find that I am in no particular hurry


The rustling of my chilly toes and the monster’s noise, make for a gentle lullaby


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