I didn’t stack up on breakfast I was just not in the mood…

I didn’t stack up on breakfast I was just not in the mood…

I will ask her though.

If you asked about the night

How was it

What about it made

My blood run warm

The beating drum that was my heart

Carefully lifted

Held with the tenderness

You would afford a newborn,

The moon a limp water biscuit

Never was of help with any answers

Silent as the grave

Where silence is a commodity

Bought and paid for

Its golden lustre peeled away

Leaving nothing but tinplate

No sterling silver salvers

Replete with calling card

To announce the entrance of a welcome guest

As the icy shards of rainfall gather

Waiting in the wings

For the moment to arrive,

It would be a quiet assembly

Whatever surprises shadows hide

However magical the velvet skies

With its myriad of blinking lights

Handheld lighters

Mobile phones

Waved by an audience of dead stars

Would that I was the headline

As the music plays in sympathy

For the passing of the flame

The moon hangs still

The clouds part but sadly

To reveal the depth within

If there was ever any wonder it would be now,

The cicadas pause their love song

Spiders wait to ease the tension

The wall clock ticks away

As dependable as a metronome

Every living fibre will vibrate

With an energy

In time with its own

Circadian rhythm

Barely registered as a timepiece

As the small hours count down

The night gently slips away

With so little to commemorate

Or recommend it worth the price

As an ethereal madman in a nightcap laughs

Into the netherworld

Where lost souls wander aimlessly,

Breaking the nocturnal magic

Rolled over as easy as an egg

Soft boiled and served with toasted soldiers

If you asked me then

About the night

I would be challenged to reply

With anything other than the truth of it

There was little if anything

Of any consequence

That could be referred to

As worthy of recall.