Lamplit confessions

Two O'clock arrives right as promised,
Staggering in like an old drunkard friend,
Agitating me awake,
And speculating over why I wasn't to begin with.
I strike out toward it,
pleading get anxiouslý with it to depart;
I'm in no frame of mind for late night visitors to come calling.
Before I've wiped the crusty sleep from the ducts of my profoundly sedated eyes,
Two O'clocks got the room ablaze,
With the luminous light.
It's a burden and a curse,
And the more compact my eyelids become,
The more intense the light,
Until I can ignore it no longer.
So like a pair of amigos,
Two O'clock and I lie awake.
And quietly converse about all and nothing at all.
We over analyze. We under analyze.
We take trips regressing down memory lane.
We ponder the future.
We appreciate the present.
Until Three O'clock comes bellowing in
Like a scoding Mother,
And puts us both to bed.

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