Climbing Jacob’s ladder counting sheep
one, two, three: they frolic away from me
in the chaotic tangle of thoughts keeping me awake
My legs are tired but keep working
laboring herculean up carved steps
that are half my height
It’s a slog
and my hip is killing me
tossed about in wakefulness
while my pillow turns to stone
Deviating from published prompts, today I’m sharing a poem prompted by my own experience of insomnia last night – phew.
The Poetry Patio 