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it’s quiet
it’s late
only the humming and gurgling
bubbling and whirring
that go unheard all day
keep me company now
you see, the world
well my world
is asleep
and I’m sat on the floor
by the back double doors
with the sounds of the inside
as they gutter and stutter
I see the outside
but no one sees me
a well hidden voyeur
shutters turned down low
I drink as I wait
for a private peep show
whiskey and darkness
gift me predatorial sight
it’s two in the morning
the middle of the night
and I watch
watch the world beyond that window
whilst my world sleeps inside
I wait and I drink
I drink as I watch
a shaft burst through that darkness
bright as a warship’s beam
and begin poking and probing
disturbing the night
bathing her streets
in a rich silver light
seeking out secrets
which scurry and chide
my attention now focused
what does this night hide?
I clutch my pen tightly
the moment at hand
to capture some outside
not mundane inside -
interminably bland
but clouds rally quickly
grey fluff plugs the gap
and as the foothold is choked off
the heavens shrink back
back beyond the shutters
leaving me in gloom
sat on the floor
by the back double doors
ink oozing from my pores
.. it’s quiet
it’s late
but the page still lays naked
I pour another drink
and together
we wait
Copyright © Marcus Whitnell | Year Posted 2023
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