Lady Sleep

She can be a beautiful thing, that lady of sleep. She will sit next to your bed, brush the hair away from your face; tuck the covers around your chin. She will hum sweetly to you as you make your way through your dreams.

But when she is feeling temperamental she will stand in the corner, back against the wall, arms crossed. There she will stand, hiding in the shadows; peering at you out of the edge of her eye, drumming her fingers on her forearm.

We have had a rollercoaster relationship of late, Lady Sleep and I. It seems that, sometimes, there is simply nothing I can do to persuade her out of her foul mood. And so we each stare into the night time murkiness, listening to the thud of the alarm clock's second hand.