Awake

I’m supposed to sleep.
That’s what they say.
So I try to turn over.
But my bed churns with me.
I think of the things.
Cats, rain, flowers…
Things that are better than sleep.
Water.
I need a drink of water.
I reach for the cup on my bedside…
Which there is none.
I turn on the horrible lamp.
I go downstairs.
My bed is yelling, but I don’t care.
I chug my water, and think.
I set my cup down, and look around.
Another cup of water might be nice.
But I figure,
That a cup of coffee would be better.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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