Night Cap

7pm is too late for caffeine.

Tomorrow will bring cacophony.

My head will clang between
the brass plates of deadlines
and of voices stained with
resentful conscription.

My eyes will fight to return
under their warm covers
and escape the onslaught of
two million bright beasts.

But tonight is a comforting hand pressing
gently against my angry chest.
My heart beats warm at her touch and
my words come naturally without having
to ask permission from a wearied brain.

Tonight accepts me and asks nothing in return.

7pm is the perfect time for caffeine.