The Night Time World

Night is stranger than day,
The air is quieter,
And it feels like no-one is there.
Even in a house full of people,
The silence causes,
There to be standing hair.
The slightest noise in the dark,
Imperceptible in the day,
Is an orchestra at night.
There is a primal thing,
That runs cold,
Through the veins.
Like a memory just out of reach,
Or a simple sound,
That is burred in your mind.
Something about the night,
Speaks to me deep inside,
Making me want to run and hide.
And yet I still love it,
And long for it,
At the end of each day is night.

©The Pesky Poet

Please support a poet. Poetry is not a money maker but you can support it. Even a simple like or share can be enough. Grab a copy of the most recent book or reach out and ask how else you can support.

The most recent poetry book by the Pesky Poet titled MelonCollie Ravings of a Dyslexic Poet can be picked up from the links below:

UK –
UK Kindle –
US –
US Kindle –

Related posts on Pesky Poetry:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.