AND SO TO SLEEP (for World Sleep Day)

I find it difficult to sleep, sometimes,

Increasingly more often than not.

There are reasons, excuses, explanations,

As a ‘woman of a certain age’,

What more can I expect.

What of the remedy(ies)?

Exercise and activity, keep busy, fill the day.

So when I stop I’m exhausted.

More than ready for a night of good rest. 

Or sometimes the opposite,

Calming measures, a lack of stimulation,

At least when the day is drawing to a close.

Warm drink, hot bath,

No working, no social media (a sign of the times).

Or when non of this works,

Self-medication; pills and homeopathic potions, or maybe just a little booze.

An early night. Staying up late. 

I’ve tried all the options.

Yet, whatever I do,

The impact is minor.

Sometimes all is well and I wake, intuitively, just before the alarm.

Regularly it’s not.

And then I hate the clock.

When I was younger and woke in the night,

I’d smile, roll over and, more often than not, return to a dream that was giving me pleasure.

If I had a bad night it was usually a Sunday,

With Monday on my mind I sleep fitfully, in the bath well before I needed to be. 

Now, it can happen anytime,

For no reason, with no warning.

Sometimes a wee is all I need and I’m thankful for that.

Other times I’ll toss and turn, for minutes and hours, fretting about nothing, everything, anything,

All of that which seems so much more serious when it’s dark outside and the world is quiet.

A novel can help, or a cuppa, even a yoghurt!

My mum used to make herself a sandwich; perhaps that will come for me too.

In the meanwhile I’ll continue as I am,

Hoping for rest,

Curled in my white cotton nest.