A motorcycle chops the air
Beneath my windowsill,
And then, as if to be somewhere,
It blasts off down the hill.

Although I floated on a lake
As broad as it was deep,
I know I’m now too wide awake
To ever fall asleep.

All trace of drowsiness has gone;
I sparkle like a gem.
And so I put the kettle on,
Although it’s 3 a.m.

When I’m as conscious as can be,
I like to have a cup of tea.

Photo by Egor Lyfar on Unsplash

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