Go to Sleep

Here,
In the dark,
Dear one,
There is peace,
And most often quiet,
But you are missing nothing,
But my audible silence
As I write this poem,
As I think these thoughts,
As I coax myself toward slumber

And alas,
Once my eyelids have grown heavy,
And my writing utensil drops,
I close up “shop,”
And I too
Go
To sleep