THE MAN I KILLED AT NIGHT

THE MAN I KILLED AT NIGHT

Time pales in the wake of nights perilous songs,

Sour vines sipped by the falling dry leaves.

The morning may have been a joyful noise of tame sunshine,

Regaled by the dreams of a sultry setting sun.

But this man never sleeps till the sleeping bares the home.

The night finds the fire burning low,

Happiness sapped to sadness galore.

Where dreams have laid come falling puzzles,

Each counting the moments that were missed,

And so lays the peril of regret.

by elijah peter (c)2016