3 am,
You are steadily approaching as my mac battery slowly dwindles. My article is not read and my paper is not started, yet I wait for your arrival with outstretched arms. I stay quiet during your presence to avoid waking up my innocent room mate, fearing her intrusion on our rendezvous. You bring along not just yourself but 59 of your other friends, and after that, my paper is still not complete. Facebook tags along, cusemycampus joins in for the ride, even stumbleupon wants to know whats new with my life. And you persist consistently, letting me know, I’m not the only one up at night.
You bring heavy eye lids, incoherent sentences and the occasional scream from a group of drunk upperclassmen, leaving a house party on Euclid, on this thirsty Thursday evening. And so I type on, if not for my paper, to you, dear 3 AM. Your curves are what draws me in and I can feel your touch caressing my eyes, gently closing them in the form of lethargy. Please carry me off to sleep. Rock me to the gentle ticking sound of my paper being typed, and seal the deal after my paper has been emailed to my professor.
Oh dear sweet 3 AM, we must stop meeting like this, I’d much rather sleep with you.
With all my love,
Sheldon
