The Witching Hour

Midnight again and time to make the coffee strong
So much so that it is de facto espresso
The night like the coffee is dark and deep but long
It will still be here after the coffee is gone

And what it all might mean I might not ever know
At least until it is over at which time I
The sadder but wiser boy enlightened at last
Will be out of time looking back then as I die

So I will make the best of it until that dawn
Until then I live in the future of my past
I tried to sleep all day but now it is time to
Make myself useful and write a poem for you

The snotty and snarky critics have gone away
It turns out they were just jealous and unhappy
I wish I were like my mother and I could pray
For them in their unhappiness but I am not

I can see my father in the mirror today
He would simply kill them all and make it snappy
But they are making nice now I almost forgot
What does it mean when your father is a killer?

My father is a poet and I am his son
I could show those sons of b*tches a real thriller
But it is midnight now and a new day begun
My time the witching hour: good morning everyone

+Steven Curtis Lance



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