Poetry

00:04

Strangers outside

at this hour,

looking, staring

at the house

in the dark,

eyes fixed on the windows

and tracking

my every move . . .

What do they want?

I think, the inside

of the house

just a little darker

than where they stand

in shadows of the moon’s light,

We can’t see each other, right?

but eyes are moving

all around

at this hour of the night

4 thoughts on “00:04

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