Can’t Sleep


Ten to one,
The clock ticks on,
Relentless in its race.
I’ve never, ever understood
Its need,
Desire for pace.

I should be sleeping,
The night’s away,
Never to return.
Ah well, one day
I’ll sleep for good,
Wrapped within my urn.

I do hope there will be music!


© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane


6 comments on “Can’t Sleep

  1. I like this and I know those nights, as I often can’t sleep from pain, usually I think of a poem or two 🙂 Well in the urn you wont be awake, that is for sure. I hope you sleep well now 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is totally delightful, Rob (as are your other two insomniac pieces that precede it.) The image of being wrapped in your urn and hoping for music is the gentle kind of humor that recognizes a morose fact and makes fun out of it—-a most winning (as opposed to whining!) kind of complaint…..


    • Thank you so much Cynthia! Yes, I think we both manage our respective situations with humour and compassion rather than the ‘other’ way, not so?
      Okay – except for those really bad days maybe! You know, the ones when a symphonic urn feels better than the dis-harmonic human body we find ourselves in! 🙂
      Ah! And the maestros turn in…. Well, wherever they find themselves now I guess! 🙂 I wonder if they still get to keep their batons? 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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