Insomnia (i) Copyright © Copyright Sally Warrell 2011

These urgent questions,
Which rattle like trains
Through the landscape of night,
Will seem pointless by morning,
Nothing to lose sleep over.
But now we will have answers,
Though why it has to be now
We do not know. Around
And around hurtle our thoughts
Towards no conclusion at all.
At last we can let go
And sleep for one or two hours,
And wake aghast, head giddy
As a fairground ride, and weep.