(Counting Sheep at 2 am)
I listen to the Mamas and Papas
While I count, dreaming
Of blue benches tucked in sunken gardens.
I listen to the Mamas and Papas
While I count, tracing
Sun stains from the fiction of tropical summers.
I listen to the Mamas and Papas
While I count, prepping
Weekends anxious of rainy Monday sidewalks.
I listen to the Mamas and Papas
While I count, ticking
Stubborn chores off laundry lists.
I listen to the Mamas and Papas
While I count, drifting
To sleep as elusive as side B hits at 2 am.
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