3 A.M.

A silhouette of leaves against
The slow birth of a new morn
Birds chirp, an eerie delight!
But a cacophony of warring dogs
Clueless and distraught, do taint
The anticipation of light
And a silent pinching borne
Of mosquitoes forlorn, stop
A contemplation in its tracks
And start another, a fear.

If ever a phantom there was
For it the stars wait skeptical
Tapping their heels in disbelief
And whilst the leaves are dark
A ghost is surely off its mark
Because the dogs have stopped
Then a memory is smelt,
a memory felt
Which the chirps, they have wrought.

Such was a night
In which I sat on a bench
And saw a light so bright
That my eyes it did drench
Beholding a monstrous might
That bellowed and carried freight
Against the morning light
That followed suit
Homeward bound
Then, bound
No longer.⁠⁠⁠⁠


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