Night on Our Street by Eileen Earnshaw




Night falls.

Silence sings her lonely song

heavy with nostalgia.

aimlessly she wanders,

lingers by the cars and vans,

drifts into the garden

passed shirts and tops and socks with holes

dreaming on the washing line

motionless, forgotten.


This is the world of nocturnes,

of hedgehogs and the urban fox,

of spiders weaving silver webs,

of winged death and scurrying life

whispering its stories.

Soon silence  will retreat

fold the night into herself

sound and light once again

regains its place of dominance.


Eileen Earnshaw Autumn 2020.

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