Night,
When the air is cool and still,
Distant traffic rumbles softly,
Late travellers,
Bleary eyed and dreaming of home.
Brothers in arms,
Stumble back from the pub,
Singing old songs of comfort and unity.
Pale stars poke through the orange glow,
Thin points of light,
Marking long periods of time.
And I,
Alone and musing,
Silent but for my mind,
Trying to put meaning to all of these things,
And finding none.

James Carrington, March 2022

Background photo by Anastasiia Krutota on Unsplash

3 Replies to “Night”

  1. “Silent but for my mind,
    Trying to put meaning to all of these things,
    And finding none.”
    I love the last lines, they evoke in me all the memories of nights alone listening to the traffic behind my house and thinking of how the world seems to be far more busier and happier than me.

    1. 😊 Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed the poem. These lonely hours can bring a certain kind of melancholy, but somehow these are the hours I’m most creative too.