Insomnia

I lay in bed, And stare up at the ceiling That I can not see. I sigh, And get out of bed To wander down the dark hall. I reach the kitchen And open the pantry; Stare for awhile, Then close the door: Bad Habit. I wander around the house silently, A ghost in the present, And circle back to my room. I close the door, Then tiptoe back to my bed And slip under the covers. I stare up at the ceiling That I can not see And try to drift Off to sleep.