Sleep, you coquettish tease.
What do you suppose Sleep looks like?
Luck looks like Rita Hayworth, hair all done up, dress all flowy, hips swaying with the jangle of all the money she swiped from the last straight flush that didn't make it. Then I think about Death who looks rather rakish with California surfer bleached hair tossed back in a halo around a perfect smile that no one can resist forever. Why else would everyone eventually fall for him?
Then I think of Sleep, and all I see is a large bed exuding a huge swirling cloud of intoxicating perfume. The smoky perfume dances around him like his personal harem and draws you in, even when you know you shouldn't be tempted. But how can you resist just one dance? So you let those wispy fingers mingle with your own and you waft closer and closer, until Dream drapes over you and tucks you in.
Wake me up, come morning.
Luck looks like Rita Hayworth, hair all done up, dress all flowy, hips swaying with the jangle of all the money she swiped from the last straight flush that didn't make it. Then I think about Death who looks rather rakish with California surfer bleached hair tossed back in a halo around a perfect smile that no one can resist forever. Why else would everyone eventually fall for him?
Then I think of Sleep, and all I see is a large bed exuding a huge swirling cloud of intoxicating perfume. The smoky perfume dances around him like his personal harem and draws you in, even when you know you shouldn't be tempted. But how can you resist just one dance? So you let those wispy fingers mingle with your own and you waft closer and closer, until Dream drapes over you and tucks you in.
Wake me up, come morning.