3:00am
The doors to the streets are closed.
the sound of grinding has faded away
A metal worker in his shop
has stopped the clanging cymbal
of hammer beating down on tin.
both are asleep,
set aside for early light.
3:00AM
all tap, tap, tapping
gone silent.
A slight breeze
kicks up dust
from against a curb.
A rat races off to hide
And night time does it's death impersonation.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
