in a soft and clumsy stupor
when today's "to dos" melt into a list of tomorrow's "maybe's"
like a warm and shaggy bear
ready to tuck in
for a winter muted by dreams of muted winters past
but, for now feeling
the consciousness (that it's slipping)
and you are
(I love you, NyQuill)
in the slumbery somewhere
Because it's only 9:30 and I am contacts-out retainer-in going to bed, I'll give you an extra bonus.
I love this song slash whole play. If you're still feeling nostalgic for the White Christmas no one got this year, this one's for you.