It is too late

It is too late.
I have taken too long to bed,
And now I cannot shut my eyes
For fear of being tired when I wake.
Out my window stands a broad gate,
Spear-sharped, long and lank.
Shadows inhabit its grates,
So where in light surety waits,
In its place illusions my mind creates.

A frequenting tom
Is again on the prowl,
Pouncing his way down the rough concrete aisle.
He jumps on my barrier and guards me with stare,
As the moonlight allumes the bleached hue of his hair,
'Til the shriek of an errant call gives him a scare.
His paw lands on the peak of a pin iron pike.
A silent reaction echoes shrilly through the night,
And with no meow he leaps away.
I'm sleepy now, so long today.