At 1:37 what does one think to themselves?
It's the middle of the night, can't sleep
Do I grab a book from the shelves?
A baby that stares
With wide open eyes
The papasan swing...we'll give that a try.
A drippy nose
A cough that could wake the dead
I swear to God there's a vice squeezing my head.
It's 1:44 now
What do I do?
Rhyming is not easy and I pity you
who reads this midnight rant
of mindless babble.
Jack and Layla
Are up now too
What is this night turning into?
Just one person is missing
Do I dare?
I'll wake Chris up, he won't care.
My poetic license has expired.
It's time to sleep. I'm tired.