I have written a poem about myself, from the perspective of my husband, who is not plagued with insomnia (unlike yours truly). Enjoy, or not:
Last night, I had a little nap;
Still clothed, I took to bed.
My head was resting in her lap,
Because it was nice, she said.
Confused, I woke at dawn today
The duvet tucked around me,
My naked form was snugly wrapped,
My clothes were folded neatly, near
My wallet, watch, and keys;
I half-recall her whispers, small,
As she tidied them for me.
A smell of her wafts to my nose,
When I idly lift my hand.
Ylang ylang and jasmine flow
As I start to understand.
She bid me: rest, go take a break,
Then into bed she crept–
To throw her arm about my waist,
And hold me while I slept.
He likes it, anyway. And I’m glad I’m doing something productive, if I’ve got to have insomnia.