I’m in a long-term relationship with Insomnia now,
lucky me – quite intimate.
Sometimes he greets me at bedtime,
bringing his friend, the accordion player,
ready for us to dance a polka.
Other times he waits, creeps in at 3 a.m.,
quieter, juggling worry-balls,
tossing a few my way.

We’ve been monogamous, apparently committed,
though there’s been no discussion;
I hesitate to tell him, but suppose I must:
I’ve been flirting with the Nap-Man,
meeting up most afternoons,
and I find he’s quite irresistible.