Before sleep
I am reminded of the day
the insipid coffee , lacking in sugar and heat
The moments , separate from those creating memories
The problems that subsided
Those that still remain , unperturbed by day and night
I pray for the next morning to come a little late
For dreams are esoteric , but completely mine
Not like the day , night and moments
Indifferent to senses , indifferent to me .
Before sleep , I wonder , what will it be to sleep next without thinking of these things .
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