Dead Tired

Dead tired...I am,
And that means unto dead.
Almost immoveable,
And ready for the bed.

For there is a time,
That effort is stilled.
The power of locomotion,
Is run out and filled.

Too - much going forward,
That calls for a rest.
The cells need unwinding,
To make it the best.

Sleep pulls you down,
Low ambition is felt.
There's no time to arouse,
When silence is dealt.

The bed is inviting,
No need to be fired.
Ashes are but smoldering,
When you are dead - tired.

E.P. 1908 - 1989