Another Sleepless Night Poem by Thomas Wicker

Just count the sheep and think of sleep
its easier said then done
because thoughts of you come creeping through
as I count them one by one

This anxiety high keeps my head in the sky
as my body waits below
while blue birds sing and depression rings
all gifts that you bestow

The quickest cure is telling her
but that's easier said then done
because memories of you come creeping through
as I count them one by one