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The Night Guard

The  sun  goes  down  and  the  clock rings
Birds  in their  flocks  are flying  to  their  nest
A  new  day  begins  a  man  wakes  out of  his sleep
A  flip of  time , a trip  of  time , a  day without  crime
He  sighs  and  stretches  from a leap  of  sleep
He  lives  in  the  night  behind  the  gates
What  an  odd  twisted  life  he  chose  to  be
Away  from  noise , people ,parties  and joy

His  face is  out  of  sight  but  around  at  night
The  opposite  order  keeps  him in  order
Routine has  sharpened  all his senses
A  guardian  of  his fences  by his  lenses
A  keeper  at  work , a  keeper  of  his back
A  keeper  with  a  duty  to  watch
He  has  marked  the edges  of  his fences
His  eyes  are  trained  to  watch
His  firm legs  are  trained  to stalk

The main man, the tough armor on the front
you  can  hear  the  clicking watch  on  his  wrist
He  walks, he leans , he sits, he  reads
Regularly  he talks  to  himself  in  the  dark
Gazing  at the  stars  he  takes  a  breaks  to smoke
A  lonely  man  surrounding  himself  with light
Patrolling the  blocks  his path  is  similar each day
A  walkie talkie held  from  his  back, he  holds it firmly
A  solitude  man  armed  with  instincts

Carefully  he  looks, attentively  listens  to  all  sounds
Frogs  and  crickets under the rocks busy creaking
A wind breeze swaying the tree keeps him calm
The  height  of  the  night  will  do  him no  harm
He  is  not   loud  he’s  simply  away  from  the  crowd
A  choice  of  time  surely  pays him  a  dime
At  the break of  dawn  he  will  surely  go  to sleep.


Richmond does poetry as a hobby and he enjoys putting words together whenever times allows.

Richmond Runanira

Richmond Runanira


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