Video

My Bed is Calling – A Poem

29 Aug

My eyes are tired,

blood-shot and red.

I stare, unseeing,

Thinking of bed.

.

The day was long.

No time for rest.

It wasn’t the worst.

It wasn’t the best.

.

My bed is calling,

Whining my name.

This computer chair

Just isn’t the same.

.

The day is done.

Time for sleep.

Bury me in blankets.

A happy, snoring heap.

.

Wednesdays are busy for me. The out and about portion of the day is tiring, then I usually come home to my husband working on something semi dangerous. The wifely need to stay conscious to make sure he doesn’t need medical attention (I’ve never seen it happen, but I’m a worry wart) won’t let me take a nap.

So I end up working through a day of not enough sleep, and going to bed (hopefully) a little early.

Tonight I think I will fight the fatigue just long enough to eat dinner, then get myself under that pile of blankets.

That plan sounds oh, so good.  😀

.

This has been me since about 5 o’clock.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fs4cDLfgL4A

.

Why do I write so much poetry about a need or want? Especially when it’s being thwarted or delayed?

.

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