Remember In The Darkness Poem by jim hogg

The streetlights died before we slept.
Occasional cars would spray their light
to chase the palings round the walls;
a grey and white-ish pattern play;
a strange and sweet filled then and there
that swept me with it round the night,
until we fell below ourselves,
from that old cinematic lift:
a faded thing, a river gone.
The other thrills are with it too
beyond some sifting something
with barking dogs and chimney smoke,
the art of frost inside the panes
on morning fingertips we licked,
that I recall, but cannot taste.

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