In the Dead of Night

The dusk knelled passing of day,
And its harbingers start to beckon
On waiters waiting upon dawn.
But in the windy confinement I, rooted,
Waiting for my feet myself drag.

Crickets I wish at my cheerio sing
And toads’ bass'd blissful melodies
Which nought i berate you sing .
In the shadows wait I here,
For your last whisper.

"Abandoned" Photograph by Lottie Williams