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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2183662
by Norman
Rated: E · Poetry · Thriller/Suspense · #2183662
I like the quiet of the night
The city was asleep at last,
not a single soul about.
Some part of me thought it’d be fun
to wake them with a shout.

But deep down in my heart I knew
I’d never take that chance,
no more than I would strip right there
and do a naked dance.

I like the quiet of the night;
it is a part of me.
It is my time to prowl about,
as safe as safe can be.

I glided down the silent street
as softly as a mouse.
I peeked into each window,
as I passed house after house.

I finally found an open door
someone forgot to lock.
Inside I didn’t hear a sound
except an ancient clock.

The ticking of the clock was loud;
it echoed to my heart.
Each beat was like a hammer
that tore my chest apart.

I tried to calm my beating pulse;
I didn’t move a step.
Then once I felt myself calm down
up to the stairs I crept.

Then all at once a light flared up
and then somebody said,
It’s way past your curfew, girl.
Better get yourself to bed.”


Okay. ‘Night, Mom.”
Goodnight.
© Copyright 2019 Norman (jimmynee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2183662