When parents are snoring and resting their minds.
The numbers march into our homes never failing,
And dictate the peace that our bodies will find.
A wave of emotion they bring with each blinking,
The numbers they know how to hurt and be kind.
They bounce up and down like a young child flailing,
And soothe us to sleep with their one hundred and nine.
When we dose we are hopeful that we are securing
A strong healthy number to keep the calm night.
But that number will turn when we're least expecting,
No choice but give up our sleep for the fight.
Some numbers are brutal, they'll fight until morning
taking bits of our life 'long the way.
With lows taking pleasure in seeing us foraging
for carbs to keep crueler numbers at bay.
And the highs with their clattering,
They joy in the panic of our worrying about insulin on board.
Our hearts work with resolve to keep up their pattering,
But our sanity falls on the sword.
The numbers they are forever weaving
their quantities into our heads.
There is never a night that we are not dreaming
of meters with dots crimson red.
On those nights that the numbers cause up their stirring,
We hold our breath: Three. Two. One.
And keep in check emotions that surely are surging
To prove to these numbers, we've won.
Because life marches on, the numbers will shift,
The one hundreds sympathetic to our plight.
Peace always returns...there's an end to the rifts,
When the numbers take over the night.