A Mid-Night Quarry

A Mid-Night Quarry


Innocuous knocking pleats beats 'pon my door.
“Who could that be? What is this for?”
The Chamberlain's clock lingers at half-past four.
A silent offender 'midst beats 'pon my door.

“Dare come to me, knave, at this time of night!?”

“There was no choice, sire, we must leave before light.”

“Why, boy! Is that you?”
“Myself, and no other.”
“Well come, come in then, come in fairest brother!”

Shook hands rose to latch to undo worn door-bolt,
Epithetic, t'was wedged - I bestowed it a jolt.

But as the door was grant free,
My knees could not bare,
No boy, No Knave
-
Naught but thin air.

Closing the door slow, I bolted up tight.
No boy, No Knave
Would get in tonight.

“I'm just over-tired, perhaps but a dream!”

I put on a fake smile, fled for bed all agleam.

“Tis nothing, Tis nothing!”

I thought to myself,
soon enough falling 'pon dream's drowsy shelf.

I dreamed and I dreamed, until I dreamed no more
The darkness encroached... it was half past four.
I sat up steadfast, gazing at open door
As innocuous knocking pleat beats 'pon my floor.

Author's Note

Please enjoy, boys and ghouls!

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the feel of old story and myth. Sometime we know what is going to happen and wait for a knock or a phone call. I like the sense of waiting and the thoughts in this poetry. Thank you for the outstanding poem.
Coyote