Sleeps by day,
finding even
the thinnest
strand of sunlight
in which to lay,
to recharge his
dwindling battery
for what lay in wait.
The mysterious
mister midnight
purrs away the remnants
of the night before.
In wavy dreams
he sees claws
ripping the night
in two.
Paws tipping cups
from the tables of destiny,
to the floors of dismay.
He sees
the watchman.
Bloodied, but unbeaten.
Sleep demons
begging for mercy.
Hears the howls
of the wolf singing
in the low hours.
A canine lullaby
to the moon.
Midnight wondering,
who is protecting
his dogged dreams?
As he bounds off
into the autumnal
leaf-fall strewn
ballroom of night.
A leap as he sneaks across
thin rickety fences,
walking the fine ledges,
the sleep encrusted
ridges of reality.
No barrier for his nimble feet,
nor enough to protect
against the swarm.
The infestation
of nightmares flooding in.
The storm bringing fear
to peaceful dreams.
He hisses an alarm,
to warn the watchman
that danger is beckoning,
before prowling off
in search of a snack.
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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