and we meet yet again
just as we have since September.
I again have the opportunity
to deface your crisp, white pages,
as delicate as lace,
yet destined to be used for
commission, creation, expression.
As my tired eyes struggle to open
after each needed blink,the words I write
become less clear, just as the lines
upon you have faded away.
You expect me to fail,
have my pencil drag of the page
giving you a smile, mocking me.
But as I have on previous nights like this
I will push through, writing each word
with more thought than one word deserves,
sitting there, staring back as if
it had no appreciation whatsoever.
My thoughts trail to what could be said
and when, while the thought-provoking
music invades my mind with its words.
Although I know the time is late,
I hear a sound, look over, and see the
window shows nothing beyond the porch.
If I had been in an office building,
my desk would be the only one lit.
Knowing I must think and finish before
my semi-alert mind fails me, I continue writing,
now anything that comes to mind.
monkeys, rubber bands, peaches.
I get back on topic,
thank God my mind is still functioning
after so much in one day to take in
with so little to work off of.
This is about being really tired and it being late while I'm finishing my homework. I always know what time it is, but I never really look around to see anything change around me, like the light disappearing outside. My homework does get finished, somehow.
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