And guess who got roped into "volunteering"?
That's right...I did.
Let's just say that by the time I get back from practice, ready myself for slumber, and say goodnight to Mom and Dad, it's WAY past my bedtime. I'm not complaining. It's great fun, this musical. But it does result in late evenings and the music is like caffeine for me.
Now I know why no one drinks coffee at 9:00 p.m.
Anyway, while I lay in bed trying valiantly to turn my brain off, I usually get some pretty good poetry/writing inspiration. This is what I came up with last night, as I was trying to...well...catch sleep.
Ironic, isn't it? That one would write a poem about catching sleep while they were trying to catch........never mind. I'll just give you the poem.
Enjoy!
Catching Sleep
Darkness fills the air.
I create a cocoon around me
with blankets
and burrow my face in the hollow.
I breath hot air and
wait for sleep to take me
for a walk
like it does every night.
It sits there,
waiting,
but whenever I reach out
to take it, it
scampers
away
And I am left
with nought
but a handful of darkness.
I reach for it again,
but it dances away
and perches on the
branch of a memory.
I crash into it,
wanting so badly for sleep
that I've lost
all coordination.
But still sleep eludes me.
Always just beyond my grasp,
blending with shadows,
waiting for me to catch it.
My mind spins circles.
It only wants rest.
Just when I collapse into
that void
between
consciousness
and
oblivion
sleep pounces.
And it catches me.
I must remember that.
To sleep, one must be
vulnerable-
catchable-
prey-
because sleep is a huntress,
waiting for the next exhausted soul
to sleep.
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