Three a.m. and I can’t sleep,
Sleepy is shallow while tired is deep.
Telling my mind it can just run free,
Doesn’t even help, something’s wrong with me.
Stretching the muscles, torso and limbs,
My bed becomes the comfiest of sheet-covered gyms.
Any moment I feel that I’ll go under,
So I lay down in the distant, voiceless thunder,
Laying my head on the pillow, which is when
The sleep disappears, along with my Zen.
I guess the Sleep Gnome assigned to me tonight,
Is a cheeky bastard, abusing its might.
Therefore, I guess an appeasement is due,
Something to eat, and a feather bright blue,
Is what you need, but I don’t have a bird,
But shredding some paper handled by Word,
And sticking on blue tack is enough in low light.
Plus, you know that the gnome is not that bright.
Paper, blue tack and an apple with fur,
And voilà, I fall into the slumber and purr.