tiny overseer of my sleep
who see s all with ebony button eyes
of endless depth
the silent observer of my dreams
he descends from a proud ancient line
guardian of all sleeping angels
who remains steadfast
in his quiet place
of seemingly endless  meditation
next to me

I don't cry papa, but the tears spill out
I don't dream too, but the memories sprout loud.
I ain't moving papa, my legs are stuck
So is the moment, and it won't pluck...

Woven in the time papa, here I lie
Hugging up the memories that tends to fly...
Looking through the window,all but fog do I see,
But eyes still awaits papa, widens to see if it's thee..

Time has passed by papa, wounds would've healed
But what about the scars papa? And the memories it has sealed??
Still, I don't cry papa,but the tears spill out
And I don't dream too, but the memories sprout loud...

I knew I was hungry,
But I didn't know satiation like you existed.

I was happy with what I was being served, before I'd tasted luxury.

You're corned beef hash across from a plain cheeseburger.

I've never had you before, but you're familiar.
I've searched for this flavor.

Now I've gotten a taste, I'm hungry again.

Don't let me starve.