By Chaliam Lowakho
Sleep is far, awaiting knock,
As if she knows recipient needs a dock.
How sensible to choose a befitting hour,
As though she knows the recipient's in sour.
On mark, she spreads an array of fort;
The fort contains mizzling doze.
Leisurely, the donee slips into nod,
Thus unclicking seeming decade woes.
Short but indepth of the poem is excellent
Profound and stirring