Accustomed

There was an incredible sound
In the bright light of
last night's moon.

And I hung on a long time
waiting to hear it again
listening to ordinary stillness

You weren't here to consult
I was sitting in our spot
smoking a lonely cigarette

But I went ahead and pretended
"What the hell was that?"
I asked the empty spot beside me.

(c) Tasha Chinnock 2007