The permanence of memory (A poem)

Actually, I was awake at 12:30 a.m. on New Year’s Day, but poetic license…

The things I remember could fill a book
the things I don’t could fill three
Some things are bound to remain mysteries

It’s four o’clock in the morning
I’ve been up since one
That’s the trouble with sleep
and the hours I’m keeping

If I close my eyes, will I remember?
Dreams have a habit
of slipping away at first light

(1 January 2016—posted January 2)