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by Tavyn Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #1453427
Brief poem about a rather odd afternoon.
A knock at my door
It was noon, not before
So really no one should be knocking.

I arose, quite upset
Did this person not get
That the minute before I was sleeping?

To the door, and with haste,
I opened to face
Two men in a manner quite shocking.

One was tall; one was short
I snarled a retort:
Tell me please, if you please, what you're doing?

When they neither replied
To my question, I cried,
Did you realize that I'd been sleeping?

I could only but stare,
Towards the men in despair
At noon with the sun slowly waning.

Suspiciously odd,
I awoke with a nod,
To a knock at my door; I was dreaming.
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