The Night Club

She greets each one at

The door, noting wide

Awake eyes that match

Elegant night attire of

The flannel sort, coffee

Offered or something

Stronger, a bowl of pills

Upon each table, chairs

By the air conditioner

For those too hot,

Recliners by the fire for

The ones who doze by

The minute, televisions

Compete with music

Over murmered words

Sharing no sense mixed

With yawns, from time

To time, one declares 

They really should go

To bed, leaving with a

Wave only to return to

Try hot milk...

She stands at the door

Welcoming all comers to

The trendiest night

Spot to be seen in when

Darkness doesn't 

Soothe, the Sandman

And Morpheus never

Visit Club Insomniac,

Despite engraved

Invitations and all the

Begging words.

By Gail Constable

From: Canada

Instagram: witch_of_words1955