All sorts of nights

The night had been long, the night had been short

burning up the last of the last wick

pantomiming my way home after work –

the day had been longer than eternity

and I moving like a rattling bag of bones

The night was long and the night was short

intoxicated by the smell of her skin –

lost in the hours of her lap

the day inevitably whorled away

but I was to be stilled again

The night is long, and the night is short

moments like meteors for an attentive mind

scrutinising emotions encased in seconds 

in curled strands of hair and wringing hands –

having to inhabit stillness in motion

The night will be long and short –

full of words that pinch and twist the heart

each breath a farewell to love and time

with only smells like petrichor to keep sane

and spoken words echoing like footsteps