by Bilal Saloo
I like it when it gets dark
at three in the morning,
when the silence of blackness
is seeping and everyone is softly snoring
when not a thing moves
and not a person speaks
there are no calls, no texts
No notifications, and no tweets
when light does not stream
noisily through the window
and there is no hum in the air
of chaotic, busy, ordered, no bellow
of daily life, of daily on-goings,
of blaring TVs and crackling radios,
of cars and trucks and vans ticking
over, of thoughts in frustrating prose.
I like it when it gets dark,
at three in the morning,
when silence seeps peaceful
and its embrace is calming.