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Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Sleep Is For The Foolish

I lay in bed,
I stare up at the ceiling,
I count the holes,
I begin to wonder,
Is there something better?

I could read a book,
I could watch TV,
I could do my homework,
I could write a story,
I could even shower.

But no that’s not me,
I lay in bed,
I stare at the ceiling,
I count the holes,
Nothing seems better.

I think about life,
What do I have?
This bed,
This blanket,
This old ragged pillow.

This is all I have,
So I lay in bed,
I stare at the ceiling,
I count the holes,
I wait till dawn.

When dawn comes,
I hear the birds,
I hear the squirrels,
I hear the rabbits,
I hear the cats and dogs.

They don’t matter its only 5 am,
I shall lay in bed,
I stare at the ceiling,
I count the holes,
What more can I do.

I am not yet awake,
Not nearly tired,
More of a state of bliss,
I can’t move,
Not like there is even a reason to.

Noon comes,
I lay in bed,
I stare at the ceiling,
I count the holes,
Is my life really this boring?

I can hear the children outside,
The dogs barking,
The cats meow,
The cars drive by,
The ice cream truck passes by.

Evening comes so soon,
I lay in bed,
I stare at the ceiling,
I count the holes,
I have used a perfectly good day,
For nothing not even a sigh.