Sleeplessness - For Chris Ackermann Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

Curled at your feet you hear her purr
herself to sleep, her soft fur
against your skin. Under a bedroom sky,
devoid of stars, in sleepless hours you lie
circling images like a cat that threads
her delicate steps sideways, stops, then moves ahead
again as she stalks her unsuspecting prey.

But the images will not stay
still. At the last moment they take fright
and launch themselves, only to alight
a short distance away.

Wide-eyed you, too, stalk the hours into day,
so full of images that simply will not stay.