The Midnight Writer

The clock slashed time
Under the watchful eye of the owl
Singing its funereal ode
Of a dozen syncopated snaps
Rejoicing a death
And lamenting its rebirth
Announcing my turn
With a tired yet hopeful hum
To write
My chapter in Another
Lease On Life
On its earth-strewn letters
I am disclosed with a tale
Woven by my past
To be continued by my hands
Spitting out names, places, and memories
Familiar events whose strangeness
Blemished my eyes

I blinked

A briny drop
Made its resolute journey
To smudge
The last dot.