The afternoon calls to me,
it begs for me to take advantage,
a swimming sensation within my mind
causes a wondering and I mentally wander:
I do not have the energy for this.
To explore the pathways,
to join with other beings,
to share their thoughts, feelings, and dreams,
well, this is something undulating, it seems.
Instead, I wish to lay down in my bed,
rest my weary head that’s arisen since two thirty a.m.,
and laid half alert, half asleep,
pacing back and forth,
up and down the stairs,
waiting for the morning,
when I can end the time when that
restlessness replaced my wanted dreaming.
I must replenish,
I must coerce this Afternoon who wishes to
bid me hither soon,
to engage me in some activities that are beneficial to me,
who says that they are beneficial? I want to squawk,
I want to scream.
Instead, I peel open my newly made bed,
feel the crispness of the lining sheets surrounding my body,
feel the plumpness of my fluffed pillows
billowed around my head,
and I close my eyes,
feeling the softness ensue as the doona
weighs upon me with comfort
that I haven’t known for ever so long.
This haven I have created,
this haven I have made,
I am thankful for it,
the opportunity to rest comfortably without interruption,
because in the darkness of the early morning,
I will be hastened from my sleep,
my eyes, bleary, open,
and again, it’ll be two thirty.
The couch is no solace for someone who wishes to swim in dreams,
I must be in my current bedded comfort tonight,
I tell myself that in order to have
calm before mayhem or disturbances
from my short sleeping delights
I must rest and relax into an early, quiet night.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Glen McCallum on Unsplash
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Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 