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Sleep My Love

I worry with you
when you don’t sleep
in the depth of the night,
in the deep, grey, deep.

When the moon is quiet
and the owl glides low
across the tree tops
where the leaves are slow
to fall.

This is the time
we wait for sounds
of early morning,
and the clinging tiredness
we share nightly
and recover from
in each others arms
is tightly found.

Sally Plumb

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