the late hours

the late hours, again
hiding in the corners of the ceiling
staring down at me
locked eyes and stolen rest

there is never enough time
to think about everything, every thing
hiding memories are slowly found
in this tired-night waking  place
at least i’ve found something

and so the late hours come and visit
when they do so please
and talk a thought so to appease
the sleeper’s sudden symptom sound
the late hours talk
and words resound