A Poet's Strife
My head's awash with rhyming verse.
I should be glad, but it's a curse.
Because at night I cannot sleep.
I've tried hot milk and counting sheep.
But, all of that fails - every time.
I just go on thinking rhyme.
From ballad to sonnet or silly ditty.
Escape would be sweet, but I'm shown no pitty.
This has been my strife now for several years.
A thousand times, I've been close to tears.
But, I think l've now resolved my plight.
By sleeping all day and writing at night.
And so I've formed nocturnal habits.
Like badgers, owls, mice and rabbits.
It truly works for me my friend
So, if you suffer the same, I recommend...
Not a cup of cocoa or herbal tea
Sleeping pills did nothing for me
But resort instead to life at night
This should surely put things right.
[DV - 1989]
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