How unmoved this moment, though a train breaks through night,
even the candle's flame stills 'til it shows its blue to night.
My book remains un-read, those words are empty, refuse to gift
either peace of mind or peace of home for discord now rues night.
Rooms are awful living things; the ceiling drops as curtains lift
for I gaze far past that keening track as if a want can undo night.
Beyond the glass wails impermanence, it echoes with a new rift
between then and now, a sudden indifference that shoos night.
Time is so cold on this November eve and the old clock shifts
but a whistle mutes a question, so I will thank you, night.