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.
