Three In The Morning

by Bilal Saloo

I like it when it gets dark

at three in the morning,

when the silence of blackness

is seeping and everyone is softly snoring

 

when not a thing moves

and not a person speaks

there are no calls, no texts

No notifications, and no tweets

 

when light does not stream

noisily through the window

and there is no hum in the air

of chaotic, busy, ordered, no bellow

 

of daily life, of daily on-goings,

of blaring TVs and crackling radios,

of cars and trucks and vans ticking

over, of thoughts in frustrating prose.

 

I like it when it gets dark,

at three in the morning,

when silence seeps peaceful

and its embrace is calming.

 

 

 

 

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