Night….

Night

To the vampire is life

Another feeling to the husband and wife

Night

Is when the vagabond teens prefer

For promiscuity will occur

But mine,

A repeated elegy to be read

As contemplation cut a swathe through my head

Night

You have made me a grand old master

To prophesy melancholy ahead

Now my young shoulders can hold no longer

My old head.

Night

A period I reserve to cry

For I will see no one around to ask me why

At night

Sometimes when I cry

I forget that the day

Lies just a few hours away.

poem by Elorm Dogbo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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