I don’t always get a good night sleep. I can be too cold, too hot, too awake…or pushed into anatomically impossible positions by two adorable cats that take up a disproportionate amount of blanket real estate.
And then, of course, is the sleep itself. I have become a very light sleeper and often have ‘busy dreams’ that see me more tired in the morning than when I retired the night before. Sigh.
This poem is a narrative about one recent episode of sleep.