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.
