Judith Viorst: Three in the Morning

At three in the morning I used to be sleeping an untroubled sleep in my bed,
But lately at three in the morning I'm tossing and turning,

Awakened by hypochondria, and gas, and nameless dread,

Whose name I've been learning.

At three in the morning I brood about what my cholesterol count might reveal,

And the pains in my chest start progressing from gentle to racking,

While certain intestinal problems make clear that the onions I ate with my meal

Plan on counterattacking.

At three in the morning I reach for the bottle of pills that I seem to possess

Increasingly larger amounts of as every year passes,

Except that I can't tell the ones for my nerves from the ones for my stomach distress

Till I put on my glasses.

At three in the morning I look toward the future with blankets pulled over my ears,

And all my basic equipment distinctly diminished.

My gums are receding, my blood pressure's high, and I can't begin listing my fears

Or I'll never get finished.

At three in the morning I used to be sleeping but lately I wake and reflect

That my girlhood has gone and I'll now have to manage without it.

They tell me that I'm heading into my prime. From the previews I do not expect

To be crazy about it.