Late

My eyes sting

They grow tired, reflecting my inner state

I can barely make it to my bed

I have spent my day

Doing things I enjoy achieving

Knowing things very worth knowing

And seeing things well worth seeing

So now I know I must close these eyes

That protest at being used late into the night

They threaten to rebel, to shut down

Form a union, Go on strike,

Demand I give them some time to rest.

Little can they comprehend

How much there is in store for them tomorrow

And the rest of their days.

If I knew that future, I might conserve their strength.

But then again, might not we all?…..

NB


All words, works, writings, photos, and art contained on this blog are the creation and sole intellectual property of Nicholas Biddle. They may not be used or reproduced in any way without the express consent of the author, and proper (legal) credit given to the author.


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