Nyctophilia

I love the night. I love the night.
So personal and sparse of light.
Naught to stay my straying feet 
in their journey towards a late night treat.
No one to interrupt my thinking
or to disapprove my drinking.
No one knocking at my door.
No one to put a bra on for.
I love the darkness and the calm
of blackness spreading like a balm
cushioning the obligations
and the constant consternations
of the cluttered daylight world
with all its busy fuss unfurled.
Though daylight’s pleasures you may recite,
Still, stubbornly, I prefer night!