Sleep! Oh glorious palliative

for daily care. Bringer of comfort

to those ground down by toil and strife

ease to the bruised and broken heart.

The mother rising for a third time

in a single night, as her child wails

and sees the dawn breaking once more

cries out inwardly for sweet Sleep.

The insomniac whose eyes burn,

and body aches with weariness,

curses and loves Sleep, courts and spurns

his fickle lover both by turns.

Heart-ache is sweet Sleep’s enemy

and yet Sleep soothes the wounded heart.

Brings comforting oblivion

and passing ease from grief and loss.

Sleep, cruelly shunned by busy folk

and replaced with coffee, deceitful

and enticing mistress who claims

to be a substitute. Yet Sleep

forgives and takes us in her arms,

when coffee can no longer turn

aside grasping, dull weariness.

Sleep, unvalued by those who sleep

well, uninterrupted and calm

yet treasure beyond rubies to

those who cannot close weary eyes.

Gentle but capricious goddess,

comforter and tormenter both,

I beg you to return to me,

and take me once again into your arms.


I am so tired. That is all.