People Aren't Awake this Time of Night
A poem about a stroll.
By Henry RichmondPublished 7 years ago • 1 min read
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People aren't awake this time of night.
My head was filled with stars
as I wondered and wandered down the road
and the sky smiled black.
Dark, with no city haze to cover
and I liked it.
I tried bouncing my tennis ball but
the echo maddened my ears.
I let the silence run its fingers
through my hair.
The bold amber eyes of the cat seemed
surprised when it saw me, frozen. for a moment
and then fled, arrowed down the icy track.
People aren't awake this time of night.
I kept walking and didn't notice the cold.
Irrelevant.
I didn't mind the glaring lights
of the truck that struck me,
a fateful silhouette cast gold,
I didn’t care.
It didn't see me coming;
had no reason to, really.
People aren't awake this time of night.
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About the Creator
Henry Richmond
I like writing and the snow.
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