The Midnight Scream Poem by Harold R Hunt Sr

The Midnight Scream



The midnight scream
The clock strikes 11 and all becomes quiet.
No sound can be heard, but a car so far away.
Tonight is chilly and you would be silly to be out.
Mist in the air to make away the smell of fish.
The clock hit 11: 30 and you see a mouse running the cobble street.
No cats for a dog to bark at.
As you walk, you see the shops all closed down the night.
11: 45 voices from the bar you can hear they are enjoying their beer.
The clatter of glass makes a little music to the ear.
As the midnight clock strikes 12.
A scream you hear that sets your bones to chill
Happy new years is the midnight scream

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