Second Sight Re-write

At first I wrote
My poem pleased
Came back, years on
Revised with ease

The thoughts were fine
But I suspect
At least they're mine
'cos not correct

I could re-write
Read aloud, shout, speak
Stay up all night
Re-work all week 

Eight syllables in every line

Or twelve, or ten

I think that's fine

Just one more time, and then again

I start gone four

And end gone ten

I should end soon

I'm not sure when

It's six a.m. here
What should I do?
Re-writes cost time, dear
All's changed, now new.

I've written through the day

And I've written through the night

Two minutes stretched to twenty hours 

But at least it reads all right.

I know it's morning here

But it's still midnight somewhere else

I shouldn't burn the midnight oil

It's not good for my health

I wish that I had watched the clock

But even then I wouldn't stop

The mirror has a bad surprise

A pretty poem but baggy eyes

I wrote so long I nearly dropped

Even my old, tired clock had stopped

Each comma, syllable's in place -

Though I've a haggard poet's face.

-ends-