Hopefully snoozing, happily snoring
are my thoughts as I settle in for the night
So many mornings I stare at the ceiling,
watching sheep jump left and then jump right.
How many hours can I lay here – trying not to think
Relaxing all my muscles from my head to my toes
I keep my eyeballs open, trying not to blink
But when the burning makes me close my eyes,
I get an itch inside my nose
No sooner do I find a spot that to my bones feels comfy
My old man prostate wakes me up
and says I have to go pee.
I give up and shuffle into my computer room
and read depressing world wide news
all the standard gloom and doom
I fall asleep at my computer desk with my head upon the keys
and my hands folded comfortably upon my bony knees
I’m usually up late at night behind my computer. My husband came to say good night with the hopeless look of an insomniac who knows that sleep at night is often only a wishful dream. He usually ends up “catching up” in the afternoon. Immediately my brain started composing a poem. He got a good laugh about it the following day.