I covet sleep as misers covet gold,
As sunbaked plants desire shadow’s touch,
But sleep’s a thing that can’t be bought or sold,
Like coal and butter, peerages and such.
I’d sell my first-born, if I had one, for a nap –
The coffee isn’t working any more
Though I’ve drunk so much my bladder’s like a tap.
If I sit still, I know I’ll start to snore.
It seems so long since I was in my bed
so long till I’m back in bed again.
I need a fluffy pillow for my head –
Instead, I’m stuck on this infernal train.
It’s guaranteed if off to sleep I drop
I’ll wake to find I’ve missed my blooming stop.
Notes: written en route, with feeling.