H'm, it seems quiet right now...
So here's a kinda quiet poem for some C & C:
Some Suburban Midnight
And how many men are stood like this in their socks,
bare legged as they shake then hang up their trousers,
smooth what’s draped on other hangers, then quietly
close the wardrobe before peeping between curtains
while their wives turn a page and muffle a yawn?
Outside there are stars, countless stars,
stars they never notice except on holiday
when they glance up in the warmth of a barefooted instant
perhaps mentioning childhoods when they stared,
as how many other children have stared, amazed
at their scatteredness, their distant sacredness.
Soon they will lie with the light of their thoughts
not realising that all they ever wanted is here
as it was before they looked up from some beach,
as it was before they didn’t look up, a blessing
in the stillness of their dark bedroom right now.
Bob
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