Sleeping suburbia

Suburban street night lights

show collarless cats on the dusky prowl

for others and Friday night laughter, squeals,

leak out over the rooftops.

Venus loosens her belt

of lavender lingerie.

It is called, Good Evening.

A front door closes, somewhere

down the block-moan and thud,

then a dog speaks up,

in protest or jest.

Kerrr-clunK, kerrr-clunK,

rolls a skateboard by my

bedroom window where my

bed is against the window.

I see a silhouette where

the belly of the open rose

is quietly collecting dew.

Beauty sleeping bloom.

Cast in the far corner

on my white walls, the moon-

light speaks, near the door

-Beckoning-

for more room fortnight.

Photo Unknown (not given) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.