Do I want to be writing a poem at 3 a.m.?
Do I have to write on, now, in mid night?
Or I’ll not sleep till dawn.
So if I search for the adjective that fits a noun and verb,
Scare up an adverb,
Dangle a participle just right,
Sleep will come.
If in that quest I stumble on a
I’m better off then with a dozen winks.
Then again I know the dusk light
Will bring more wrinkles,
Pronounced bags under each eye,
And the realization
This little episode hasn’t been much fun.
Yet this is how
Sleeplessness finds me,
Concocting an empire of words on paper,
Ginning up a universe.
Here I am, abed, awake,
While all the time I’d rather be dancing.