Egyptian Cotton

It just came. There was/is no thought.

Egyptian Cotton:

Lay rest your weary head, for

In slumber you may preach

The dreams without your reach

On that burning pile of lumber

Draped in desert whites and creams

Author's Note

I haven't written in months. This is old, very old. I don't know what it means. I wrote it in a couple seconds. I think it was the best thing I've done though. Maybe you'll find some meaning in it; somewhere. Probably not.