Twenty to two
you’re wide awake
listening to the sounds
that the night owls make
The rumble of goods
from factory to store
the bells of the crossings
as the train tracks roar
Cool cats wail out
their tunes on the corner
sounding like a group
of funeral mourners
And the horns and the boombox
from some blokes passing car
Make you wonder why you
left your window ajar
But soon there is silence
tween fall and rise of the sun
till the birds bring the news
that the mornings begun.
Another little scribble from my collection of notebooks…thanks for reading, Denise….Inky.
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Inkdrop is freelance writer with a passion for exploring the intersections between nature, architecture, and artistic expression. With a background in computing, and writing – his pen name harks back to when he played around with rhymes and a fountain pen. Now joined by a selection of created photos from an acquired DSLR camera He shares insights with scribblers of all backgrounds. Outside of visiting museums and exploring the latest in exhibits , he enjoys walking through the countryside in pursuit of the next rainbow.
The Inkwell 
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