Last Project

Staying up to late has become habit
as the clock glares with a green glow,
the log has passed eleven.  An hour
later - still up typing - it's midnight
(can that be right?) and although you're
no more orange than you were before 
you feel the fairy tale slowly wearing off. 
Eyelids droop with the first hints
of giving up but fingers tap away. 
They're trying to reach the finnish line
running and fall blindly into place.  After
one and still far from done the unnatural
glow of time still hangs over the room. 
It's not only eyes fading by the time
you fall beside me into bed forgetting
to turn out the lights.  I rolls away,
letting you steal the blankets - you'll
need them more than I, and wait for
the day to call you back to work
to pretend that you weren't procrastinating
like a common undergrad.