One Thirty A.M.

One thirty in the morning
And here I am, awake
Alone again in the night
Like so many times before.

Off I search for something
To quiet the dull roar
Of neurons' thirst for sugar
To quell this nighttime low.

I sneak off to the kitchen
Careful not to wake
Sleeping cat or husband
This silent team we make

You and I, diabetes,
We mustn't make a sound
Sip slowly from the bottle
There's no one else around

Alone with diabetes
My mind is set afire
For fleeting distant seconds
Low sugar does inspire

A thousand Mona Lisas
Solutions to world peace
A million calculations
All problems seem to cease

I can't explain what happens -
To some it makes no sense -
But when the rush of a low hits me
My brain gives recompense

In form of inspiration
A poem or story line
Or maybe just a blog entry
To share with thee and thine

It's then I truly hate you
Diabetes, night time foe,
For showing me what happens
When words flow out of Low -
When Muse is made of sugar,
And fire is St. Elmo.