National Poetry Month: April 11th

Insomniac by Maya Angelou

There are some nights when
sleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wiles
that I employ to win
its service to my side
are useless as wounded pride,
and much more painful.

insomia

This poem was selected by Lesley W. (Head of Adult Services)

Poetry Copyright Notice

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