After a futile attempt at slumber,
I arise, and choose instead to write lines.
One can’t sleep, so instead he must wonder.
‘What happened to all my tickets and fines?’
A question like this keeps a man from bed.
He pondered unresolved bits of his day.
All too oft, the answer brings only dread.
He’s scared now of what the police might say.
But soon enough, his frantic breathing slows.
His counted lambs now no longer must leap.
From deep in his lungs, a snore slowly grows.
For he’s finally fallen into sleep.
He has forgotten all his woes tonight,
But just tomorrow, they will give him fright.
