Echoes of Insomia

Preface: I wrote this on a restless night. Part funny. Part serious.

Boom, Boom, Boom. The Noise fills the Room.

Drip, Drip, Drip. Am I going to slip?

Tick, Tock, Tick. Let me go to sleep quick.

Snap, Crackle, Pop. This isn’t the time to shop.

Bang, Bang, Bang. In unison, the door and wall sang.

Mistakes, Mistakes, Mistakes. Yonder, daytime breaks.

Restless Morning. Side eyes glaring, waiting wistfully for this somber night to calm.

Carefully examining the warning given by the clock. Tick, Tick, Tick.

Morning will come soon with an aching dawn and morning dew. Sleep, Sleep, Sleep.

Will the waking calls of the morning be enough to wake me? Snore, Snore, Snore.

Buzzer rings. Waking alarmingly. Time for another day. Shit, Shit, Shit.

Dereck Pritchard 8/11/25 Dereck Pritchard 8/11/25

Ode to Misplaced Keys

Hark! Wherefore hast thou fled,

Thy trusty keys, once at stead?

O’ vexing sprites, thou takest flight,

To hide from me in darkest night.

Didst thou slip from pocket so wide?

Or in yonder drawer dost thou abide?

Perchance beneath the couch doth ye rest,

Or hath the cat claimed thee for jest?

Didst thou falleth underneath the red Toyota,

Or perished in twilight nights existential quota.

Keys, Keys, wherefore art thou, keys,

Maybe thou art in slumber, deep freeze

Methinks I’ve reached the end, I fear

Didst thou ghost take it, my dear.

Perhaps it groweth its own legs to walk,

Ne’er seen such a thing, I will not balk.

Methinks I’ll find them again soon,

Before night comes, with new full moon.

I must goeth soon, before wagon arrives,

Nourished bones, as the clock strikes fives.

O but what is this? Thou art a spare.

Spared my hair from turning bare.