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.