Bedtime

The shadow of its dying frame
now lingers on my TV screen

The night time lamps which oozed bright light
glow dully as they fade to black

The doors are locked, the heatings killed,
this evening's dishes put to bed

And here I lie with weary head,
the embers of my midnight smoke
are gently crushed to death

And now rests welcome apparition
is haunting battered bone and muscle

My head perceives tomorrow's spirits
through hazy half baked plans

And my heart wantonly loves
The ghosts of yesterday.