Ageing

You place a tumbler
of chalky water
by your bedside lamp.
To sip with your insomnia.
Which stalks you.
Which only fizzes out
when the stars wink out.
Then your mind,
tighter than a meat safe,
greets the morning.
You wrap your crocheted quilt
around your shoulders
and heave yourself up.
It is laborious.
Being alive.