Balmy night lay snugly over
As suburbia dreamed its dream
Of a balmy night in clover
Spent with another loving teen:
The fragrant odour her skin weeps;
The though-numbed arm he round her keeps;
Which both can sense although each sleeps.

Top-heavy fraction children
Sleep underneath three sets of stars;
The duvet, the ceiling, heaven,
And misery holds back its claws:
This is no night for nightmare's neigh
To wake a child before the day
Can burn the frost and fear away.

For the sake of imperfection
Still must some ghostly figure walk
So like preacher from a lectern
Does he through slumb'ring aud'ence stalk
Regarding each with self-same stare
Always judgemental, always fair,
Finds all too sim'lar to compare.

Past Eagle-Eye, past VanGuard,
Past locks, past bolts, past dozing dogs,
Past the hatchback in the front yard,
Click the soft second-marking clogs.
Alarm nor door though bolted clear
Can stop this creature drawing near
So far removed is he from here.

And in a living room that could,
Though odds are well against, be yours
Without regard to what he should
Leisurely wanders through the drawers
And gazes at the mantelpiece:
Son's football photos, bridesmaid niece,
Leaves crystal glass slight-stained with grease.

And then, as if by sorrow steered
He takes with grip both frail and firm
The treasure that is most revered;
Grandmother's ashes in the urn.
Back then he slips while guard dogs lie,
Past VanGuard or Eagle-Eye,
Into the balmy night they fly;
Like teenage lovers' sleeping sigh
Into the balmy night they fly.


by Matt