Just before dawn
It is late at night, almost morning; the silence is as noisy as high
tide washing over the pebbled shore. Gloom hangs in the air like
a horse blanket covering a nag`s rain-sodden back.
Tomorrow is the first of October; years have been piling up on me,
This quiet messenger of spent youth and yesterday’s ghosts I have
done my best to ignore, are back mocking me.
Dawn, a cockerel crows I hope my neighbour will kill it and eat it
for his Sunday lunch. The intrusive unvoiced is like watching
a black & white reel of my life, a litany of failures.
Sigh, I didn`t get to meet Marilyn Monroe. This moment when I
Should take stock of my life, all I can think about is to buy
for the fire Monday morning