Thinkers Poem by Edwina Reizer

Welive. We breathe, We drink. We think,
and there's where the trouble lies.
Oh to turn off this brain of mine
and close these tired eyers.

I could not count the thousands of thoughts
that pop up in my head.
And between these thoughts are musical sounds
that surface while in bed.

I need to meditate and think of my breath
but I find it hard to do.
I envy the ones that can do this.
I wish I could do it too.

I think that thinkers are born this way.
There I go thinking again.
I'm starting to wonder 'Is this a female thing? '
for the sleepers are mostly men.