Tiredness creeping on,
Eyes almost tight shut,
But you cannot go to bed
As ‘they’ are not yet back.
Any case you’re going home
Going to sleep in your own bed,
Not some foreign, alien place
Just your dear, cosy room.
Yawns are coming one by one,
Gradual onset gets more and more
’Til eyes don’t see the page no more,
The hand just writes, the brain just ticks.
The writing gets to be a scrawl,
A strange sensation behind the eyes,
Eyelids feel like 6 ton weights
As head begins to droop and loll.
Only the traffic outside on the road,
Only the drip from the tap,
Only the fan at the side of the chair,
Keep you awake as you nod off to air.
The cold of the body as sleep settles in,
Makes no clothes feel warm.
Then just as the clocks (sic) turns out ‘one’
You hear them arrive - ‘they’ are home!
Joyfully greeting, you crawl from the chair
Eyes forced open, arms fully cramped.
Collecting your money you leave by the door,
Back to your bed, to comfort once more.
NJB
Thursday December 6th, 1979
