Tired

He thinks he killed me.
So he rolled me up in a rug.
I thought I died too but then I wiggled my toes.
Rugs are bristly and hot, so I felt that too.
When I try to unfurl, I just get wrapped tighter.
Until I relax and fall asleep.
I always wake up from that nightmare,
But I’m lying on the floor from passing out.
They are worried but it’s just a dream, I say.
I’m tired, so I close my eyes again.
To get a little more sleep.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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