Plaintive Night
The evening lay hot and sticky.
I lay wakeful, sleepless and fretful
Drowning in the sultry heat.
The sounds of eventide drifted in
To ooze across my open window.
As I listened with attentive ear,
Each errant sound was carried to my bed
By the winds gentle proposition.
She gently trembled silken curtains to rustle.
A disembodied voice in the plaintive night,
To bring the pungent scents of the frangipan.
The chitterings of playful cicadas
In deep dark velvet midnight.
Far off a murmured accompaniment
Brought soft and low across the turgid air.
The gently whispering sound of the sea.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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