A pin dropped onto my carpet, but I thought it was a body hitting the floor,
ran to check the front door, stopped to watch the cars’ light show.
I found no danger but had to check again when I heard a voice two rooms and a floor away whisper,
“You don’t need to sleep;” it felt like a dream.
I laid back down. All the lullabies I sing when babysitting taste like caffeine.
I lie in bed, in between awake and asleep, somewhere between nightmares and reality.
The light switch won’t turn off, the sun is right in my eyes,
I thought sleep was supposed to come naturally.