Late Night

• Lauren Athanasiou, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2020

I hear a sound late one night,
Upon my bedroom window.
Knock, knock, knock —
A child’s timid hand.
I part the curtains.
Nothing is there.

It is dark in my room.
Outside, the streetlights aren’t working
And the moon seems dim.
The shadow on my wall has no source.
There is no light to cast it.
I shut my eyes tight.

A grandfather clock sounds through the house.
Twelve heavy bell tolls
Ring down the hallway.
We do not own a grandfather clock.