When clock strikes and door shuts twice,
I alone sit on couch watching
The shimmering tip a smoke ring curls.
And wait quietly, for Night’s coming.
There Night leisurely strolls,
Dragging along his shaggy dark cloak,
Like a homeless man in the park.
“Again a sleepless night I see
“So why don’t you play me some songs?
Some ancient hackneyed piece,
Composed under my own weary eyes.”
So I play a song, brightest of colours and sounds
With the ticking sighs of the clock as my beat
Admiring the endless piles of plates
Lying in my sink to be washed in peace.

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