rest-less,
my erudition was insufficient solution
to soul my worries into a somnolent condition

"Put you head and tresses
on my hairy chest,
listen to the rising crescendos
of a symphony of this man's
labored heart,
heaving and breathing!"

did what was asked,
nary a whimper or a sound-at-all,
and thus, I found myself
overslept and late for work

now, the inhibition
(never wake a sleeping woman)
is in sedition,
and the Times reports,
the end of Prohibition,
so when I can't sleep,
I'll wake her sleeping head
to put upon
my chest and
soul to keep

so informed, she stated and I quote:

"Anything I can do to keep you,
happy and poetry-free
from midnight till the **** crows
and slumber trumps the restless words
that will wait till morning born,
and the kingdom of poetry, awoken,
comes alive"