The Clock Chimed

The clock chimed and the sun crept away,

The moon came out and settled down to stay,

Her white beams piercing the dark,

The rusty swing’s chains creaking in the park.

Lights were turned out,

The parent’s night time shout,

“Get up to bed

And rest your head.

The morning will be soon

But first we must wait for the tiredness of the moon.”

 
And so yawning and stretching,

The village retires to sleep,

Closing their eyes to the soft dishwasher bleep.

 
The clock chimes,

And the moon smiles.