Insomnia

Sleepy meadow 

Weeping in your kitchen. 

Struck down by insomnia.

How can something so simple, 

be so vital?

It feels elusive. 

Like trying to grab 

a whisp of smoke 

or an errant budgie.

Each morning began with fear.

Fear of the night. 

Walking past homes 

brought anguish, 

imagining what it would 

be like to live there

and go to bed and sleep. 

Months passed. 

Sleep returned. 

Not by my will 

or effort. 

Like a lost friend 

who suddenly appears 

on your doorstep

and is welcomed home.