Friday Fun: Sleepless in Suburbia

I don't often publish my own poems here, but ... this one was a big hit with my Facebook friends. Here's to a great weekend, complete with sleep!

Sleepless in Suburbia
by Jan Sokoloff Harness, ©2009

Now I lay me down to toss.
I pray the Lord the night’s not lost.
Let me sleep just one night through
And I will give my soul to you.

But there’s no sleeping anymore.
All hope of REM is out the door.
It doesn’t help to hear that I’m
A woman slipping past my prime.

I am hot and then I’m cold.
This could be menopause, I’m told.
I can’t think if I can’t sleep.
And I refuse to count damn sheep.

I flip my pillow over, twice.
It’s cool, it’s hot, I’m cold as ice.
I flip my pillow once again.
Now I want a freakin’ fan.

My friends all swear that I will sweat
I do not sweat, at least not yet.
I am an emotional basket case.
No tears, but don’t get in my face.

Now I lay me down to fret.
If I sweat, I’ll get all wet.
If I get wet, I’ll have to change.
Oh, Lord, maybe I’m deranged.

Next to me my husband snores
While I obsess on undone chores.
He sleeps all night. I toss. I turn.
He sleeps just fine. I freeze. I burn.

Now I lay me down to sigh.
If I don’t sleep, I think I’ll die.
If I don’t die, I just might kill.
Please get me a sleeping pill.