Sunday, November 2, 2014

Bradford Middleton- A Poem


The night is growing old and so am I
The kids next door seem to be warming up
For a party of never-ending suffering
For all their neighbours

A young man who seems drunk on life
Maybe he’s been spending the afternoon
Doing the dreaded white-on-white
Is caterwauling like a banshee

A young woman who seems to enjoy his company
Is laughing without a care for the hour
At the top of her voice whilst I for once
Pity the foolish rich guy who lives downstairs

I sit here, Saturday night and sober
Working on my routine to keep me sane
Football on the radio and laptop open
Words flowing freely just wishing the neighbours would shut up.

No comments:

Post a Comment