I fell in love with a man who sleeps a lot

[This article has pure resemblance to my own life. The character who speaks through it and the one it speaks about are in no way fictitious, rather known faces who dwell in the surrounding of people whom I have tagged]

I fell in love with a man who sleeps a lot. No there is no deeper romance earthed beneath this statement. Rather this article puts forward my hours of unease and monotony and all because of the fact that I fell in love with a man who sleeps a lot.

The man I love is a funny guy
He sleeps at night and in the noon
And when the cool breeze blows gently
He prefers to sleep beneath the moon

He would sleep a lot, between exchange of texts and amidst a sudden surge of Facebook chat.
As unmatched the length of lines of this piece is, his duration of sleep would be like that.

 He once told me, he works a lot
Searching music and ideas I knew not
Thus he needed rest as he would say
I wonder why, I’d realize one day

As these poems would humour my reader, I say again there lies nothing sweet in them. If nothing my hours are mundane as he has his tryst with dreams while I wish to do so less then but talk with him. 

Then he would wake up and tell me,
 “Oh darling! You looked lovely in my dream.”
And I would wish to voice my rage
But his little grin would prevent my scream

Thus you see dear reader, when you love such a man, the cons are many
You would wish to complain at times but his eyes would not let you do any

As erratic as this note might look and sound, it voices a crucial problem of my life. It etches the mundane hours scripted with an uncanny unwanted feeling of uselessness. The problem is all the more intense for people like me, who cannot befriend sleep so intently at random times. As if you never do the meaningful which might call the need for significant periods of recline and slumber. And then there is a surging urge to disturb your sleeping mate with the most vigorous shake possible. But you cannot do much about it other than circling round the monotony which grips stronger every second. At last when impatience would reach its brim, your lover would rejuvenate with a smile beatific.

And if only this strange piece makes enough sense
You would restrict the boring hours beyond the fence
Thus I portray the silent turmoil of many a girls like me
I fell in love with a man who sleeps a lot. Let it be….

Oh yes, I fell in love with a man who sleeps a lot. Let it be.