The Stand-Up Poet Goes To Bed Poem by Alan Sandham

The end of the day
And the aches won't go away,
I'm reluctant to move from the fire.

I turn the television off,
Have a small cough,
And make a decision to retire.

Unquiet in my mind
For the ghost of a rhyme
I'm feeling distinctly not mellow.

As my head hits the bed
I think of a line,
And, almost immediately, its fellow.

I write it down,
This feels fine
As I make it a whole verse that's mine.

It's ready to take from the page
And be read on the stage,
Hoping the audience will applaud it as sage.