The house is quiet, completely dark
Except for one defiant spark
Which rails against the night’s embrace:
The screen illuminates my face.
The hour is late; my head is tired.
The stimulants which kept me wired
Have long since faded. Now instead
I think of turning in to bed.
I kill the light. My eyes protest
This sudden, unexpected test.
I scarcely need them; in my brain
The layout of my house is plain.
The corridor is to the right:
A gauntlet I must run each night
Where every floorboard’s heartless gaze
Surveys my pathway through his maze.
Each sentry waits to shout my name
If I should fail this nightly game
But I have played at this before:
I deftly pass and gain the door.
The danger here is not yet past;
I must negotiate the last.
The final task that lies ahead:
To reach the far side of the bed.
My presence somehow more than sound
Is now my enemy. Around
The bed I glide with silent speed
Before the sleeper pays me heed.
I shed my clothes, enter the warm
Beside my spouse’s sleeping form.
The steady breathing lets me know
That sleep is still the status quo.
So I relax and, slightly curled,
Let Morpheus take me from the world.
My thoughts ease their frenetic rate
And gently disassociate.