Languor
Dali painted sleep how it feels
To be drooping languidly upon
Daytime’s set of wooden prongs:
Awake and yet invertebrate,
Held up by forces that impose
Their sharpness on the tilted soul,
The night-time of old age propped up
While all around seems clear blue sky.
The Consolations of Writing 
Perfectly constructed
I love the thought captured in this. As simple yet articulate as a sigh.
Thanks so much. I’ve had this one floating around in my head for a while. I was happy with how it came out when I got around to writing it.