In the wee small hours 

Sleep keeled the powers

And so unfinished tasks

Became stalled masks



As sandman overturned

Consciousness burned

And transfers tripped

Causing corrupted lists



Backups did not reveal

All missed, and so seals

Have gummed over boxes

Which now miss approxy



A hundred or more names

Earlier list isn't the same

Now work looms ahead

As mind races on, sped



By fury at the self-neglect

To've made backup spec  

And now tears do seep

At dear lack of sleep



Spurred on by notion

There's no magic potion

As all must be done again

To make it as right as rain ...



- Tristram



Christopher W. Thomas

4:30am Sun. Jan. 18, 1998