Sunday, January 11, 2015

A Sonnet

Dream of an Insomniac

Tossing, turning, and I awake again.
All I can hear is a whispering clock.
Fifteen minutes since I last woke: tick tock.
At night a bat, then bird at day begin.
Rather than sleep, I read, which are akin.
If only someone was around to talk
About these sleepless nights, my mental block
Keeping me alert, again, again.

Dreadful insomnia remains a pain
Easily repaired by a night of sleep.
Until then I wait to dream of a train
To take me far away where I will keep
Memories and sympathy in my mind
For those whose problems I have left behind.

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