6 views
Dance of the Somnambulists
The orange light
from the lit window
casts a square on the grass.
I check the clock:
Half past one.
What's he doing up so late?
Maybe he's reading,
Gripped by a novel.
Or pacing nervously
over a boiling kettle,
Whistling steam blending
with...
from the lit window
casts a square on the grass.
I check the clock:
Half past one.
What's he doing up so late?
Maybe he's reading,
Gripped by a novel.
Or pacing nervously
over a boiling kettle,
Whistling steam blending
with...
