It was dark, deep dark
In the middle of the night
The witching hour passed
My cat is sleeping
She is curled up on her chair
She does little else
There is a rattle
Noises come from the upstairs
The house is creaking
A car rolls past, bass
Booming down the avenue
The bars have let out
I woke too early
I came to my desk to write
My fingers tapping
