Night Owl

Andrew, even as a young man,

leaves on his bedroom light;

brightly artificial

with an open door.

It’s not that light dispels 

shadows or ghosts. No, no,

it’s to illuminate a way out

and wobble for toilet relief.

I, an older man, holding onto courage

know how darkness has wasted me,

yawning like a zero

with deep sleep a matter of

snoring and lost opportunity

until, eventually, the fuss will be over,

word and wobble.

Last orders.

Lights out.