Busy day… 

My eyes heavily tell of my day.

Tell of the noise, questions & tasks.

My brain sleepily tells me I’m done for.

Age gives me a nudge I want to ignore. 

Finally my pillow calls and I answer.

Oh well, I’ll try again tomorrow…




20160809_065307-01.jpegIt prods and nudges you even if you ask it not to.

You relax, you centre, you breath – it nudges you.

You sigh, you fidget, you move – it nudges you.

You go to the loo & go back to bed – it nudges you.

Why does worry not let you go, let you rest?

In the wee small hours it only grows in proportion.

Grows until you are wide awake with worry.

Then just before dawn you’ll drift off to sleep.

To be drowsily woken not long after by a piercing alarm.

Then you can sanely realise it isn’t a big worry at all.

It was just the night monsters at play once again….