I’m sorry, my love, not many sweet dreams
Mainly my own fault, also partly theirs
Making me stay up late chatting, the themes
Of work and private life a colleague shares
In pubs, restaurants, through the wee small hours
Got off to sleep okay, but woke at six
Disturbed by sounds from the next room, those showers
Those lightswitches, tap turnings, all those clicks
Those hums, those coughs, doors, voices, real sick tricks
Like ignored wake-up calls… To me it seems
Unthinkable to sleep on unawares
Through three such calls, but next door’s guest, he likes
To wake up slowly, he needs three alarms
So now I’m really knackered, sorry dear
Fri 1 May 2009
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