Night Time

Night Time.

[Man's voice:]

Night time
is the right time
for candles to shine,
for writers to scribble,
for pages to turn
for readers to nibble,
for plots to unfold
for critics to quibble,

[Woman's voice:]

for widows to yearn
for ones they are missing,
for lovers to fumble
for buttons and zippers,
for babies to cry,
for mothers to grumble,
for floorboards to creak,
for bottles to tumble,
for shadows to hide,
for curtains to flutter,
for buildings to groan,
for windows to rattle.

[Man's voice:]

Night time
is the right time
for mischief and frolic,
for drinks alcoholic,
for ducking and diving,
for shooting a line,
for telling a girl from the office
you're leaving your wife,
for cheating at cards,
for drinking all night,
for friends to resent you

[Woman's voice:]

the money they've lent you,
for falling down steps,
for coming home tight,
for losing your temper.
For taking it out
on your wife!

[Man's voice:]

Night time
is the right time
for camping alone on an old
sofa bed,
for the neighbours to snore
through the thin party wall.

[Woman's voice:]

for counting the cost of losing
your head.

Night time
is the right time
to repent on
fortunes gambled
and unwisely spent on
hookers who were clearly bent on
tricks that never went on,
with your wife.

[Man's voice:]

Morning
is the right time
for a temporary truce,
for ironing the old white flag,
for dusting off the olive branch,

[Woman's voice:]

for alarm bells ringing in your head,

[Man's voice:]

for regretting most sincerely
all the angry things you did
and all the hurtful things you said,
for treating last night as a timely warning,
for swearing you'll give up the drink

[Woman's voice:]

for several months at very least,

[[Man's voice:]

and failing that perhaps a week,

[Woman's voice:]

for sunlight stabbing in your eyes,
for manufacturing the lies

[Man's voice:]

you have to tell to paper over
all those lies you have already told her
It's too late now to weave new stories;
old ones must be patched and mended.
Life's a bitch and then it's ended.

[Woman's voice:]

Morning
is the right time
for kettles to whistle,
for traffic to rumble,
for making your mind up,
for better or worse,
for dressing a baby
for chill winter weather,
for phoning a taxi,
for scribbling a letter,
for fixing your make-up
to cover your bruises,
for leaving a husband
who does as he chooses,
for closing a door,
but ever so gently,
for not looking back
as you whisper intently,
good-bye and God help you.
It's not what we wanted,
but that's how it's ended.