The crack of thunder’s pouring rain,
disturbs slumber, as half the moon plunders time,
each tick another shovel closer to the grave.
Metronome and MetroCard, retrograde, calcified,
a taste of passion overrides
the currency of an embroidered night, raw and wild,
inhibitions banished for a little while.
Then, restful sleep, relaxed measure of time,
until eyes awaken,
hungry for the dawn.
© Connie Song 2020. All Rights Reserved.
