NIght

Midnight never comes soon enough,

You see, for me it’s a time of quiet,

A song of silence as the streets sleep.

Its only then can I hear my thoughts

As they’re lit by the illumination of the moon.

 

Sure, sometimes the night gets lonely,

But I have my heart to hold me

And its warmth is more soothing

Then the stressed sun, the gaze of

Strangers as they pass me in the day,

Tired feet running into cracked city cafes.

 

So give me black, cast the night.

If I were God then I’d make every

Hour dark, but I’m just a man

Bearing ordinary hands and so I take

The evenings as they come, running

To them eagerly as they rise

And crying as they’re drowned by

Mornings vicious tide.

Reviews

[serpent]

night never felt so beautiful. you have quite sucessfully capture the beauty, calmness and stillness of night in your words. the wish to paint every hour dark seems a little confusing to me. is the writer referring to the darkness spread through night or the darkness that perhaps resides inside her heart. there are alot of meaning that the last stanza adds to this piece...and as the good old Jimbo said "poetry is about ticking possibilities", you have ticked quite a few of them here..
good job!

[Tomi]

lovely description of the night, made me wish for night to come in earlier at some point! nice job.