who really sleeps as the clock strikes twelve?
whispers blow in, brush aside the curtain
here comes a story I know too well
echoes creep on up the stairwell
this is no tango with the sandman
who really cares that the clock strikes twelve?
laughter hums on the wings of a spinning carousel
dreams cling to baubles, no longer hidden
there shines a story I know too well
secrets march through a madwoman’s show-and-tell
their spells denying the night to darken
who really shrieks as the clock strikes twelve?
undeserved is the hushed battle that here befell
the field can be no more flattened, for certain
here fell a story I know too well
she will have her way, this villanelle
insistence to existence goes beyond reason
she bares her face as the clock strikes twelve,
hers is a story I know too well
16 August 2015