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ping
It's two in the morning
pitch dark
and i'm awake
wide awake.
What's that noise?
there's not a car,not a soul about.
So what's that noise?
PING!
Like someone hitting metal
Something going PING!
Persistently.
I pad through to the sitting room
and ever so slowly
put my eye to the curtain edge.
PING!
It is still and empty and silent
apart from that strangeness
coming and going.
Something to fear.
So i creep back to bed,
pull the covers high
and wait for sleep.
PING!
Please Critique This Poem |
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