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Poem

Four o’clock in the morning,
Another four hours to go,
Mouth tastes of stomach acid
Eyes like pee holes in the snow.
Every Mid shift at this time 
It’s always the same
Time to start playing 
My stay awake game.
Me and old Elvis playing music
On our imaginary record  show, 
Country Rock mainly
For those in the know. 

A quick check around
For duty’s sake
Just to make sure
Everybody’s still awake.
Pete on station four
Is starting to nod.
The Op next door
Gives him a sly prod.
Back to the music.
Wish I could close my eyes,
But that’s just when sleep
Catches you by surprise.

Cold War Berlin, Cuban Crisis
Still in full swing,
Nobody quite knowing
What problems it will bring.
Whatever they may be
We’re all hoping they’ll keep,
Just another four hours
Then it’s off to bed to sleep. 
Elvis racks the records 
With the coming of full light.
Together we’ve survived
Yet another sleepless night.

Four more days
That will just fly away
And we’re off again 
It’s another  Mid Shift Day
Start off bright and cheerful
But it just isn’t right
To be awake and sober 
In the middle of the night.
Old Elvis is waiting
For me to say okay
The deck is off and spinning
Our programme’s under way.

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