writer. singer/songwriter. techie geek. princess of random.

I found this on a piece of my church Meetinghouse while cleaning my desk.  I think it must have been the only paper I had on hand at the time I was inspired.  I write like that sometimes – on scraps of paper that I forget to keep.  This one is about a homeless person I saw sleeping in L.A.

Sleep Same
by Charity C. Tran

He sleeps like me
curled like a cat
would by a hearth,
into a ball
sleeping soundly.

He sleeps like me
hand tucked
against the thigh
head turned down
sleeping soundly.

He sleeps like me,
but not as I do -
in my warm bed
of gold and purple
and red
of pillows and blanketed layers,
in a room
in a house
while the sounds
of late night TV
lull as a soundtrack
to my life.

His bed is the black -
His bed is the tile floor -
A half block down
Outside my door.

He does not sleep like me.