When Poetry and Exhaustion Collide

A tired frame I see looking back at me as I study the reflected image of the back of my eyelids.

Too tired to dream, still I find myself lost, far removed from the realm of reality.

Can I curl up for one hour before life demands my waking?

Is it too much to ask for the contour of my bed to swallow whole the form of my body for a brief respite from the day’s demands?

Is there a pillow handy to catch my falling head?

Can I slow time slightly in order to sit still long enough to doze?

I think I need a nap…

 

I couldn’t resist sharing this poem I wrote yesterday while sitting in car rider line picking up my daughter. It was so overdramatic and pitiful that I laughed hysterically at myself. I thought perhaps you might get a kick out of it too. 🙂

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