Daytime crawls in from an all-night party,
Sheepish and trying to hide.
But given away by the racket of birds,
Holding sway outside.
It drags its soiled coat behind it,
Grey with a tinge of blue.
Trips on the milk on the doorstep
And stumbles its way up to you.
You’re in no mood to hear its reasons,
Tired from lying awake.
You don’t want to listen to any excuses,
Daytime might struggle to make!
You wish it would try
To creep in quietly,
Try not to wake the street!
Instead of creating a terrible rumpus
And tripping on its own feet.
Night doesn’t land like a cat on a bin lid,
Night comes with whispers and sighs.
Rivers of dusk and clouds of darkness
Drift in and fill up the skies.
While you aren’t looking, the evening creeps in,
Spreading its treasures your way,
Wrapping you up in its blanket of care
As certain as night follows day.
ogginblog 