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?
Abigail Hopewell 
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