All That's Left

Midnight Writer

Click, clack, snap;
The letters snag on the keyboard.
Backspace, backspace;
Correct the words spelled wrong.

Yawn, tick, tock;
Late at night with
Just the little light
That shines through
The window on the far wall.

Streetlights brighten
The lonely boulevards
And quiet alleyways at Midnight.

Yet the computer hums
With a ghostly glow
Illuminating tired, overworked eyes.

The fingers move slowly,
Clickity-clack click,
Across the well-worn grooves.

Crickets singing
Their night time song,
A perfectly orchestrated symphony.

They sing in harmony
With the clap-tap
Of the fingertips.

Enter, tab, space, space, space;
A new line for a new thought
And the words flow seamlessly on.

Sip, swallow, try to stay awake;
There's the deadline tomorrow,
And this thing's due at nine.

Yawn, nod, jerk;
Can't fall asleep
But already starting to
As twilight creeps in.

Open eyes wide
And keep on typing.

Clack, clack, click.