When the sun retires,
when the clouds, grey
and that beam retrieved
by its visiting foe,
humour me, Night.

With the sweet music
of frogs and the cricket,
with the soothing sparks
of fire-flies, the moon stars,
humour me, Night.

When the coin turns,
hiding good, giving ill
and green is lost
to the heave of grunt,
tutor me, Night.

To sail high above
your eerie noise
to draw strength
from your darkest hours
tutor me, Night.

To draw wisdom,
from your moonlessness
and strength to have,
when your stars hide
tutor me, Night.

That when dawn comes
in its awesomeness,
and my heart, boisterous
won’t a teacher forget
Save me, Night!

Serah Donald Mbachu is a shy writer who hides in Owerri.

You love this, read equally great poems here and here and here.

8 thoughts on “NIGHT

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