There is a time of day

Every day when

Even the most chock full place

Be it city, bar or a head

Almost empties


Gone elsewhere

The jam of traffic

The guzzling dipsomaniacs

A brain brimming with notions

All is silent

All is still



Most often such desertion

Comes a while after

The witching hour


As if a contradiction

This is the time when

One can vanish

Without trace

No kiss goodbye


At such times

Under just the

Light of the moon

At best

The homebound course is

Always a long one

No matter how far

The stretch toward sanctuary

Is always just out of reach

More so when the

Click of the

Full brogue heel


Follows on behind


It was thus

Taking no heed of his predictions

Of the potential for peril

His impetuous flame

She vanished


Having checked with

All and sundry

To no avail

Her lover has

But two questions

Has she left him?

Quickly dismissed as


Or, the nagging


Aggressive as it is cancerous

Is she dead

In a gutter somewhere?

The latter more likely

To those not in denial


Regardless it is

Put on the back burner

Left to simmer

Until the pan fires


The idiosyncratic mind ponders

At best the results are subjective

Dissecting circumstantial evidence

Is but to play chess blindfolded


Somewhere a good man weeps

Somewhere a demon smirks



    1. Just seems to me that there are too many random assaults these days although they tell me that London during WW2 – what with the ‘blackout’ at night-times rape and all kinds of assault were at record highs! Guess nothing ever changes.

    1. Cheers – just got a bit sick of the news of rapes and violence that somehow seems to consume our local and national news – the ripper would have had a field day these days I think.

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