The Leiry Loop

Until Midnight

The wind carries the ashes

of a time long forgotten,

the memory of the finest

turned to dust;

but do ring the bell, scatter and tell:

it’s almost midnight.

The night will hurt the sharpest,

the time I was forgotten,

to dine in a phantom feast

my shadow casts;

but I brought the spoon, platter too soon:

it’s almost midnight.

Soon the dawn will shatter,

and the sun will turn its head.

But until midnight does not happen,

I shall worry no longer.

The feathers of black in place,

the crow and of the raven,

to hear the flapping of wings

that will not last;

but you will not be—able to see:

it’s almost midnight.

Soon the dawn will shatter,

and the sun will turn its head.

But until midnight does not happen,

I shall worry no longer.

Soon the dawn will shatter,

And twelve will be good as dead.

But until midnight does not happen,

I worry not, no never.