After Midnight
I arose later, in the middle of the night kind
with a kind of a strange thought on my mind,
the kind I know, it was the very reason why,
I arose later, with that thought trailing behind-
in the middle of the night: "was it the coffee?"
I stared at the ceiling, eye on a speck,
Half-asleep wondering: "A bug? What the heck?"
I got out of bed, now obviously mad.
It landed right on me, invading my space,
Making me jump as I swatted my face,
Chasing the critter—then memory flashed—
I arose later in the middle of the night kind,
with a kind of a strange thought on my mind,
the kind I know, it was the very reason why,
I arose later, with that thought trailing behind-
in the middle of the night, I realized-
"No bug spray." My reason why.
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