Why Doesn'T It Work That Way For Me? Poem by Carolyn Brunelle

You offer me a nap and I AM tired;
only fifteen minutes you say,
so I grab a blanket.
I struggle at first to relax
but soon that haze catches me;
loosens my grip on the world.
Then just as I fall into the rabbit hole
of unconsciousness,
something slams; rudely it's all jostled away.
Wrecked and angry
I am pulled from the edge of it;
yanked back into reality and none too happy.
What happened to my peace of quiet?
When you nap, I tiptoe on eggshells;
why doesn't it work that way for me?