I pride myself on being a good sleeper

A real winner in the sleep contest

With a shelf of trophies and blue ribbons, metaphorically speaking

But once in a while I find myself

Lying in bed awake

Tired not tired

Worrying about children

Money, old feuds, my parents now long dead

You name it, it’s crossing my mind

It’s a time for regrets

Topped off by what-ifs.

Eventually I get up

Throw on an old bathrobe because

If I don’t get dressed it’s not serious and

Go into the living room

In a nowhere stupor

Television blank

Hoping to wear myself down enough

To go back to bed.