I wait for the night to fall quiet
Will away the general hum
While the fading roar fall home
In this instance of one indigenous
Not altogether of this part
An instance then of distant county
I am fair close to the rattling roads
A birthplace for noise
To warn of oncoming locomotion
In this instance of momentum
Or rather call to fading light
An instance of the minutiae
I wait for her steps to walk
Will off the past indifference
While her ageing steps tread on
In this instance of one more deception
Unfair to share as so far apart
An instance of the cruel misperception
I wait for no end of words
Will off the poets cleave
While still to deepen the disbelief