My Medium

At night I lie awake
eyes firmly shut
willing the peace of sleep
to embrace me.
Instead, my mind
conjures up fearful events
I am helpless to forestall,
soothed only by an assertive
muse insisting on
composing serene poetry.

Harbouring a firm intent
to post those peerless thoughts
come daylight hours,
I cannot recall their lines
or gently pleasing symmetry.
Morning arrives, sans rest
sans reward of the night
mind's toil, and I
wonder what the message is?