The Four A.M. Game
I awake to dream remnants whirring.
Undigested morsels of projects
beg for my attention.
Please let me go back to sleep!
I shift slightly with hope of resettling;
The cat does not stir between us.
My partner's snore confirms
he is not sharing this experience.
My published poem strides to the table,
the captain of his team.
Firmly gripping the dark red paddle,
he dares me to begin.
A half-hearted serve floats over the net,
slammed with a crack by the champion.
Will to Sleep never had a chance
against the Muses of Inspiration.
Debbie is a member of our local poetry group in Des Moines, although she is not
very assiduous at attending the meetings.
No comments:
Post a Comment