After Lights Out

The friendly warmth of my bedside lamp
Is snuffed out with a quick click,
And I, pulling up the covers,
Am alone with the darkness,
And with my thoughts.

Each deed,
Or misdeed,
Made from morning to nightfall
Is hunted down and remembered,
Replayed.
I roll over in search of escape,
But still they come,
Whizzing past my closed eyes:
Great thoughts
Of inspirations to be transformed into masterpieces,
Silly thoughts
Of ridiculous jokes
And happy smiles exchanged.
Sad thoughts
Of harsh words misspoken.

As I wrestle with these memories,
The clock is the only observer
And slowly,
Slowly,
Slowly,
Counts the hours away.

Back