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Somewhere between awake and sleep
When counting sheep just does not work.
I look upon your closed eye lids.
That ripple with the shapes of dreams.
Like stars that twinkle in the sky.
I imagine my self under those.
To know just how pure you are.
A heritage of samurai.
Fresh snow upon the yellow grass.
Fallen blossom that rests
upon the road.
I want to walk that midnight path
To feel which way your wind blows.
And rest a while in the breeze.
Smell the scent of ancient trees.
And float off gently, easily
To sleep.