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
