Lycargus Poetry (1)

I rise, bright darkness giving way.
The house feels different without the intrusion of day.
I know this hall as an old friend should, night our sweet love song.
I pass the clock, slower now, for it knows the night is long.
Everything is better here. Calmer, as it should be.
The only sound is of the door, giving way to key.
The dog looks up from his resting place, seeming to understand.
Strange how we need the beasts of this place, to tell us the making of a man.
I take the coat from off the hook, and the shoes from beneath the chair.
In a moment I am gone from here, the silence claiming I was never there.