Abigail Hopewell

Insomniac stirred

by a bladder then a cat.

Thoughts circling around

mounds of memory

vales of worry

paths of imaginary

future possibility.

Desperately searching for Slumberella…

She’s waiting casually

in the shadows, drawing me in slowly.

Finally

we embark on a three-minute stand

So deliciously seductive and smooth.

Then the clock strikes six;

Oh but we were only getting going!

Slumberella teasingly takes her leave;

hotfoots it to last night,

leaving me to face the day

with a long hangover of desire,

confusion and wistful wondering.

The memory of her touch lingers on

sweetly, painfully.

Clutching caffeine

to get me through the day,

anticipating Slumber’s familiar joyful caress,

I wonder – will she be there tonight?