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By Mark Crocker

Hours of the night pass in shadows unseen by my eyes.
Alone in the darkest light of night I lay awake and wish for sleep.
The clock by my bed I watch as each second ticks away as if an hour it is.
Each hour that passes seems as if it is an age that has passed.
I sit up and turn on the light and wish for sleep to come.
I call it by name and yet it does not come.
Shouting out for sleep I call for it over and over yet it passes me by.
Sleep come to me and make me rest, I plead.
Yet each second is an hour and each hour is an age.
I turn my head and look at the clock and only a little time has passed.
I turn off the light and feel my eyes close tight as sleep falls on me.
My eyes open and only a minute has passed since sleep called me by name.
Sleep laughs at me and flees into the night and awake I lay wishing for sleep.
The gray dawn comes too soon as sleep has not come to me this night.
My clock beeps at me with its hateful sound just as sleep comes to me at last.
I drag my sleepless body out of bed as another hateful day of work starts once more.

2004 Mark Crocker  

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Reader Comments

Name: John I. Blair Email:
Comment: We've all been there! If this poem is actually autobiographical, you might try melatonin. It's over-the-counter, free of serious side effects, and really works.



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