To Sleep, perchance to dream...

Here I am at it again. My mind is working overtime, and I can't sleep. I've been thinking of J. and about what dreams he may be having.
He will be burried today in his small town in U.S. Still can't belive he's gone.
As I was googling insomnia and sleeplessness, I came across this beautiful Ode .(Keats).
The illulstration is entitled: "Sleep and night." In my mournful mood, I like the purples - the colour of mourning, at least in the Catholic Church during the Lent - and the poppies.

To Sleep


O, soft embalmer of the still midnight!

Shutting with careful fingers and benign

our gloom-pleased eyes, embower'd from the light,

enshaded in forgetfulness divine;

O, soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,

in midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,

or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws

around my bed its lulling charities;

Then save me, or the passèd day will shine

Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;

Save me from curious conscience, that still lords

its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards,

and seal the hushèd casket of my soul.

***********I'm so tired, but there are no lulling charities around my bed, just a pair of socks. Oh, why, oh, why can't I sleep?!