After The Witching Hour

What hour is this?

Dawn is done.

The moon is gone and the bottle is dry,

We were waned and drained.

Sitting waiting for the New Year,

Every night.

You’re asleep but my eyes won’t shut,

Some nights you give me too much,

Too much to think about,

Too much to feel.

My cup had over flowed with your thoughts,

Yet you still seemed thirsty.

Is there nothing I can give you to fill it?

I can only awaken your thirst.

But will you hear me?

What hour is this?