There's a quality in the air
Which speaks of darkness.
A subtle vibration heralds
The delirious currents of dreams
Everyone's invited -
Somewhere between the rosy lap
Of steaming, evening bath
And the coolness of fresh sheets
There's a gate to the Tropic of Midnight.
Here the fever of night-scented stock
And towering family trees
Shade you from moon-dazzles
And busy, buzzing worries can be wafted,
Gone.. Here the mists of sleepless tobacco
Crown our friends.
Drunk on fatigue we drown nightly
In the alcoholic blisses of
Star-flung rum and
Carelessness
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@wolfie
The Octoberman. All I need is a bottle of Talisker, a keyboard and you. Facebook: Nikarkham www.nikarkham.co.uk
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Comments & Feedback (5)
@naaviie thank you.. I needed to balance up the 'idiot' piece with something at least a little bit creative :-)
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