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To sleep, perchance to dream,
I lay my head on the pillow.
I close my eyes, but then it seems,
Like the clouds, my thoughts start to billow.
Did I remember to bolt the front door?
And did I lock the car?
And clean all the cat sick from off the floor?
I won’t give them Tesco’s dry food anymore,
Scraping it up is just such a bore,
And that’s what that hairball paste is for,
But it used to work when I tried it before,
And so on and so on, blah blah.
So, I’ll focus on my breathing,
Counting it can never fail.
Sense my belly with in-breath heaving,
Through my nostrils, feel it exhale.
Now, breathing in, I’ll count from ten,
Hold for a second or two.
Let my mind become blank, and then,
Breathe out, count nine and start again.
Wond’ring if it’s what they do in Zen?
I’ll bet they sleep easy in old Phnom Penh,
Those Buddhists, y’know, are devoted men,
But what happened to my count? Oh pooh!
Then I note an ache in my bladder,
That tells me I need to go to the loo,
I was just dreaming of a venomous adder,
That’d escaped from London Zoo.
So, with reluctance, I have to get up,
Staying in bed would never do.
If only I hadn’t drunk that cup,
Of herbal tea with buttercup,
Now I must dash for a ‘Number Two’!
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