sleep
The purple hooded monk has the cure to make me sleep
The root it holds so close and dear will clear my active mind
Standing in taciturn contemplation toes buried in the ground
Taking a bite of the valued root whose juices numb my lips and tongue
The bitter pulp tickling my thought as I find a spot upon the ground to lay
The Purple hooded monks stand over me as a smile blooms on my light blue lips as I finally go to sleep