But I’m not Tired
Copyright © 2007 by Jennifer Autian

Mom says, it’s time for bed.
I look at her and shake my head.
But I’m not tired.

I want to play with my toys awhile.
Five more minutes, I ask and smile.
But I’m not tired.

She points to the stairs and says let’s go.
I’m not ready. I go real slow.
But I’m not tired.

I drag my feet and take my time.
I stop at the stairs not wanting to climb.
But I’m not tired.

I climb the stairs and head to my room.
I’m not happy and share my gloom.
But I’m not tired.

I stop in the hall to pet the cat.
Give him a hug and his head a pat.
But I’m not tired.

I get to my room and lay on the floor.
Mom follows behind and closes the door.
But I’m not tired.

On to the bathroom, she turns on the light.
She calls me over. I go without fight.
But I’m not tired.

I brush my teeth and wash my face.
Fold my towel and put it back in place.
But I’m not tired.

Take off my clothes; put my pjs on.
Rub my eyes and proceed to yawn.
But I’m not tired.

I cuddle up on Mommy’s lap.
Listen to stories, as I prepare to nap.
But I’m not tired.

When stories are done, I say my prayers.
God Bless Mommy, Daddy, and all my bears.
But I’m not tired.

Mom gives me a kiss and a tender hug.
Tucks me in tight, like a bug in a rug.
But I’m not tired.

She turns out the light and says I love you dear.
I snuggle with blankie and pull teddy near.
But I’m not tired.

I close my eyes and dreams begin.
One last yawn before sleep sets in.
I’m tired.