I lie on my back
staring up at the ceiling
It happens again
that familiar feeling
I try the old methods
I’m counting my sheep
But none of them manage
To send me to sleep
I shut my eyes tighter
But open my mind
and keeping me conscious
Are the tings which I find
Memories and theories
Old plans and schemes
when all i am seeking
Is the refuge of dreams
A dog barks outside
Or inside my head
the sound has made sure
That the sandman has fled
I won’t waste this time
that I did not request
So I’ll use this brain
Which refuses to rest
All my times tables
Alphabet in reverse
and I start to get desperate
As the clock makes things worse
I long for escape
a visit to snoredom
Instead I am here
Drowning in boredom
I glance at the time
It’s already next morning
I’m up in an hour
the day’s almost dawning
And I’m still here yawning…
[Paul Avis, ‘Windows of the Soul’, 1997]