Night Friend

 

He pads down our street

in the dark

when I’m in bed

closes swinging gates

puts away left-out bikes

finds lost cricket balls

checks the street lights are on

and our front door shut tight.

 

In the daytime he rests

inside the big round pipe

with the metal grille

under the road.

 

He’s my quiet, night-time friend.

My Elephant.

 

Except on Wednesdays

when he goes stomping wild

clunking clatter-crashing

grabbing munching tossing

leaving,

all along the street,

knocked-over

lid-swinging

rubbish bins.

Glenys Eskdale

• Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22