Now it's coming to the end of the evening.|
The time when the ceiling sways and objects jerk out of place.
Your eyelids heavy,
You make your way down the yellow streets
Past rows and rows of houses;
Curtains drawn tight against the night air.
To a flight of stairs which lead to a room
Where a bed is waiting for you to lie down
- Perhaps alone, perhaps not -
And go to sleep again.
They wait alone in unused rooms
They sit and they remember
Oh please remember.
So you lie on your back in the dark
And hear the blood rushing in your ears
And the soft "tick, tick, tick" of your watch against the mattress springs,
Patterns merge behind your eyes,
Purple and green glowing gently
And all is soft with furry darkness.
You yawn once, turn on your side and fall to again.
They wait alone.
They bathed your eyes when nights were cold.
Remember, oh please remember there's something you've forgotten.
When you awoke later that night,
The bedroom was cold and you were alone.
Alone and and afraid of the dark,
Watching, waiting, as you lie on your back,
Naked beanth the cold sheets;
Not dead just sleeping.