POEM/PARODY: Lying in Bed in the Middle of the Night

There's a joke of sorts in the Kornacki house, something about how we know it's Saturday night because Michael will mess with our sleep, knowing I have to be up early on Sunday for worship. Well, last night was one of those nights. As I was getting ready to head to the church this morning, this idea popped into my head.

My apologies to Robert Frost.

Lying in Bed in the Middle of the Night

I went to bed at ten, you know.
I cannot seem to slumber, though.
I hate to just keep lying here.
It seems my head is full of snow.

You must admit, it seems quite queer.
I thought at least a nap was near.
I should be dreaming of a lake
Which freezes up this time each year.

I toss and turn, I moan and shake.
I want to sleep--make no mistake.
Perhaps I should get up and sweep
The dust and dirt and dandruff flake.

And all I want is slumber deep.
I have appointments I must keep,
But Michael will not let me sleep.
Oh, Michael will not let me sleep.


(c) 1923, 1969, 2018  Robert Frost, Alan Kornacki, Jr.