The Sleeping Lady
I had nearly given up when I saw her
From out of my window, the perfect muse.
She lay asleep on a park bench,
To be so uninhibited
So at ease with herself.
The autumn’s sun had just begun to set
The sky was stained gold,
The trees around the park swayed,
People came and went,
Some even sat beside her
But all the while she slept.
I was entranced.
It inspired me.
I went over to get my sketchbook
And began drawing what I saw.
When I had finished,
The lady still slept
Drenched in the final hours of sunlight.
And later when I lay in bed,
All I could think of was her.
Over and over again I played the scene in my mind
And in my dreams
I dreamt only of the sleeping lady.
But now when I look out of my window,
She is gone.
To me she
Can only exist in drawings
And in my memory.
She has transcended my dreary world.
She is a bygone imprint I never want to forget,
An image as ethereal as an apparition
yet every bit as perfect as grace.
Liam Martin is a poet from Nottinghamshire in the United Kingdom. He has a BA in Creative Writing from the University of Derby and is currently studying a master’s degree in English Studies at the University of Nottingham.