Last night we dined late. We then had half an our to wait for our dessert to cool down enough to eat. I sat on the couch and tried to read, but found myself dozing. In the intervals of waking, I remembered that J.V. Cunningham had written an epigram that had something to do with this. It is number 74 in "A Century of Epigrams":
Night-piece
Three matches in a folder, you and me.
I sit and smoke, and now there's only two,
And one, and none: a small finality
In a continuing world, a thing to do.
And you, fast at your book, whose fingers keep
Its single place as you sift down to sleep.
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