Time of Night

Nighttime delivery by Ken Riddles


It’s that time of night again

The time when one retires

It’s that part of the day again

When the body speaks and seeks

Sleep – the non-productive vibe

Fight it – you will

If the mind is active still

But common sense must prevail

Care for yourself in being sensible

No more mind-working-’til-you’re-ill

So take your rest all flaked-out

Horizontal repose – I suppose

The watchman many moons ago

Sat in his little wooden hut

While the coke [a kind of coal]

Did send it’s distinctive smell

Across the nostrils of ‘out-too-late’ boys

Who joined him

Enamoured with the red glow

Against the houses in a row

What was the conversation then?

I forget – and can’t visit it again

For I am what is referred to as ‘grown-up’

An adult is my title given

Once told I had ‘made it’ now

But old enough to have more sense

Back when night watchmen were innocent too

And no suspicion accompanied their friendly talk

Now all is black as night except for the stars

Of good hearts who have not bowed the knee to Baal

Let’s sit with the watchman and share his sandwich

No turkey dinner – so late at night

But leave him now we will – for even he needs his sleep

2 thoughts on “Time of Night

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