(Poem 73 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Sleep is my favorite activity.
I think it always has been.
It’s just a little harder now
to reach the perfect bliss.
When I was young and firm,
sleep came easy, just dripped
like candle wax on my pillow.
Now I need my cpap machine,
a supersonic fan on blast,
the right kind of darkness
that blocks out memory,
the right kind of quiet
that sets the stage for dreams,
the perfect temperature set,
all my pillows plumped just so,
my grounding sheets tucked,
and my husband by my side.
@Home Studio – 73rd poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 