trouble

last orders at the bar,
as light leaves, heavy hearts
and hungry eyes,
search outwardly
the black liquorice slick streets.

how welcome were the rains,
before,
and yet their sullen grey belly
hangs and troubles me
more, yet more.

the hissing galleys
rampant moon waits to rise,
for like all love
and like all death he hides
until the time,
is prescribed.

men, all types of hands,
grip firmly to the sides
as the blinds lower
workday binds are loosened
and night begins its cries.

sleep on well you
that find good reason,
in the shape shifting gloom
good reason to sing high,
and to feel assured.

there is trouble,
trouble plenty,
but I love to watch the lights go on,
and listen, to town
as it empties.

trouble

uncleblack

Joined February 2010

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