Practice Makes Perfect Poem by Michael Burch

Practice Makes Perfect



I have a talent for sleep;
it's one of my favorite things.
Thus when I sleep, I sleep deep...
at least till the stupid clock rings.

I frown as I squelch its damn beep,
then fling it aside to resume
my practice for when I'll sleep deep
in a silent and undisturbed tomb.

Originally published by Light

Thursday, August 8, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: sleep
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