Sweet Little Table Lamp

Who turns the pages, over
The sweet little table lamp
While I sleep wide awake, limbless
Doing silhouette’s work

Toiling whole night;
Brethrens of the dark
Took hold
Of my study chair

Lazily, I sliced an eye
Towards minstrel
doing its musical bid
Pages after pages

Satisfactorily I gasped
My sleep
with sound comfort
whistling by the nostril

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