on a worn string
slipping down the line from one
hour to the next
of jewelled slumber but in between
a frayed cord of anxious waking,
hot turning, grasping for a lifeline that
my sweaty touch disintegrates, dreams
clattering to the floor
and here I am again, awake
4 thoughts on “My sleep is like”
Lovely poem—I think it really captures the frustration of sleeplessness. I also love the image of the dreams clattering to the floor and waking the poet.
Thank you, Frances! I get many opportunities to polish these pearls.
This is lovely as always and I can close my eyes and visually imagine your words. For me, it’s part of the joy of reading well written work. You make me see as well as feel.
I hope you are well ……… Love, Marty
Marty, I’m well, and thanks as always for your kind … and visual … poetry participation. Love, Ellen