deepundergroundpoetry.com

Night Song

At midnight, the train comes.
Maybe it’s at ten o’clock,
Maybe it's at one.

But the train sounds its whistle.
It plays a chord.
It first starts off in major,
Then shifts to minor the closer it gets to my window.

I listen and pull the covers
over my head.
At 43, my little child's hand,
The one that sleeps inside my big hand,

The one who is still eight years old and terrified,
Reaches out to touch and explore
Different parts of my body.
Mommy, I whisper, It hurts.

My big hand covers my heart.
Where? It asks.

Here.
Here.
Here.
Written by toniscales (Lost Girl)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5 reading list entries 0
comments 10 reads 532
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:45pm by Ahavati
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:39pm by nightbirdblue
COMPETITIONS
Today 1:05pm by Grace
COMPETITIONS
Today 1:04pm by Grace