I can’t sleep.
I have to be up before dawn.
I have a very long, tiring day tomorrow.
My worries are keeping me awake.
But they are cleverly disguised as ideas: vibrant, inviting, endless concoctions and blends of what could be and should already be by now.
I yawn but sleep won’t come.
I pray it comes as soon as writing dispels its power.
It’s past midnight.
I have to sleep.