I get in and I savour the feeling,
Flat-vertical, I don't favour the kneeling,
Whilst I know it’s highly appealing,
I cannot 40 Wink into a final blink, so sleep I'm never stealing.
Warm, welcoming and cosy,
But rest looks me in the face a stranger- it knows ME!
Soft, solace of recuperation,
But my feet shuffle like this bedding is Bhangra and i’m Asian.
Confused!?
Lying nude!
Nothing lewd.
My mind somehow perceives sinking into the mattress crude.
It’s about that time!
My watch however, beats in the rhythm of uncut rhyme.
Trying a trick of the child rearing trade,
Self imposed bed-bamboozlement is made,
My body however is advanced in its evasion,
It would seem I’m impenetrable to insomnia invasion,
How can something that feels so nice be so wrong?
I wouldn’t struggle with a 5am ‘Redemption song’.
What is one to do when BED-time becomes mythical?
Keeping light inflicted watery eyes, open at a screen is less difficult.
It is said that once you make your bed, you must lie in it..
Do I really N.S g? Or am I misled to just denying it.
