Goodnight

Some days last a lifetime

And some nights take two.

A face slidingly tiered walk

Half two and a sky at the edges of the print.

Suppressed nerves jangle down the street,

Money in the pocket

And a song in the heart.

The head will follow.

A strange reality

So far away from the sleepers

Free to slip through the dark

With half a mile to go.

The mundane morning hours away,

The evening fled in desperate insomnia.

And even the gritters slumber.

Not that they’d venture this far.

The village, mid dream

Dribbling their tales into swallowing pillows,

I’m £20 richer.

Children slumber on,

Money for old rope,

And some peace and silence.

Trees claw over my starless scene

And streaks of wind snap at my trespassing ankles.

Wakeful feet pound weary pavements.

The morning after,

And others dreams are stolen,

Whisked away by the harbinger alarm,

Mine float,

And soar,

Through the freedom of the night.