Midnight approaches,
But you are not asleep.
Isn’t it strange
Running on the rooftop,
‘Neath the starlit sky?
There the roof stretches,
300 feet away.
at the end, your goal is standing
Standing straight
The old bell tower,
So old that its staircase falls apart,
And you have to run across the long long
roof, In this peculiar way.

​

Rattling, rattling,
There you may hear,
Like monotonous chatting,
Echoing everywhere.
Might they be snakes?
“poisoning you”
Said your mother.
But since you are on the rooftop,
It no longer matter.

​

Gravestone, gravestone,
There you may see,
Like repetitive symbols,
In a horror scene.
Might there be phantoms?
“pestering you”
Said your father.
But since you are on the
rooftop, It doesn’t matter.

​

Therefore you hasten,
Therefore you speed.
Therefore a rooftile falls,
Making a muffled beep.

​

Therefore you stumble,
Therefore you slip.
Therefore you leave your
coat, Leaving it right
beneath.

​

The window is shattered,
The bell is rusted,
This is your destination

​

But there is no time for

​

celebration. Stars pitch still.

​

Perhaps spinning slow.
You stare at their winks
From thousands of years ago.
But a thousand years don’t
matter. Mattering “now” is better-
-now is midnight.
As your alarm suggests.

​

So, you take a deep
breath. with you the bell
groans,
“The new day is coming!”
“After an extended
dream.” The rust is
shaking,
And in all directions falling.

​

A shout clear and loud,
Over the graveyard,
Over the field,
Around the globe

To your hometown
Seven thousand miles it goes.

​

You smile,
but find the daydream
on the lawn
last a while.
Grasshoppers rattle,
Laughters jiggle,
In the breeze
So gentle.