Again I cannot sleep. A herd of prancing sheep
Have failed in their one mission. But they stare
They’re totally confused, and I am not amused
There’s just no point in them still being there.

While trying to relax and let my limbs go lax
I think of ambling through green fields of clover
With no imagination, a lack of concentration
Means I tripped up, and finally fell over.

Some experts give advice, like no technical device
No books or stimulants last thing at night
Been there and done that, got the t-shirt and a hat
What a waste of time, I’m still uptight.

Staring at the ceiling, moonlight now revealing
Faces. Some odd shapes form in the gloom
Can’t stand the tick and tick of the luminescent clock
It’s close to being thrown across the room.

Birds have come alive, their day shift starts at five
A dribbling hubby’s in the land of nod
If I hear one more snore, I’ll throttle him for sure
Relenting, I locate a rib and prod.

It’s light, I sigh and rise, bags underneath my eyes
Are packed for anyone to use, they’re free
I didn’t expect perfection, but look at my reflection
Is that even human? Is that me?

Having ironed out the creases, and put back facial pieces
Hubby asks if I slept well, I want to weep
I no longer look like death, but I won’t hold my breath
Hoping that tonight will bring some sleep.

Gill Kirkby