There is a balm that soothes the troubled mind,
a cool blanket of fog that brings relief
anesthetizing what pain it can find;
a warm embrace that you can hide beneath.
It liberates the ear from hurtful noise,
dulls the sense of touch and blurs tired eyes –
slowing the walk and lightening the voice
so your words escape slowly, in small sighs.
And each inch of skin and bone is mellow,
relaxed, as if soaked in an ether bath,
tensions dissipated in a cool haze.
In this state, your mind is soft, like jello;
each creeping moment is cause for a laugh –
nothing much gets done on one of these days.
27 DEC 2002