MusicBox

I can feel 
sleep behind eyes 
prompting me like 
an assistant to 
go but sleep 
I don’t for
my mind doesn’t 
quiet it yaks
and yaks droning 
on about droll
insignificant things when 
all I want 
is a music
box already wound
and singing a
sweet lullaby from 
years past when 
such things called 
sleep to come 
but I suppose 
that was before 
life set in 
and my mind
pushed out all 
of the pleasantries