Asleep in My Head

Asleep in My Head

My tea grew cold, as I dozed in my chair;
The windows were dark and the hour wee.
Thoughts that I’d juggled were no longer there,
Yet I struggled to call them back to me.
The bulk of my fingers had gone to sleep,
And my eyelids had gained a lot of weight.
My hair looked like it had been buried, deep
Underground, in an ancient packing crate.
Tired eyes tried to focus upon the screen,
Of my desktop computer, patiently
Awaiting input, machine to machine:
For fatigued emotions inside of me,
Had silently crept to their little bed;
And left me alone, asleep in my head.

Mick McKellar
December 2015

There was I, head cradled on my left hand, valiantly endeavoring to remain conscious long enough to finish a poem about trying to stay awake to finish writing a poem. Yet, I was left alone, asleep in my head.

Mick