Police – The Quiet Night Shift Poem by Paul Warren

The clock is ticking slowly on the wall
As the hands move at a pace not to enthral
I’m sitting here at the Police Station desk
Its night shift and I can’t close your eyes in rest

The front door opens wide and he steps into the office space
He ambles up to the high counter without thought of a quickened pace
And he begins his oration of the problem keeping him awake
But his issue is not one that would be an easy one to placate

You see as he was lying down on his bed in an attempt to sleep sound
The police radio was working in his mouth keeping him awake so profound
And he wanted me to turn it off and said listen you can hear if I open wide
So I stood there in front of him and looked down his throat back deep inside

You know that I listened hard for the words he wanted to discard
But for the life of me I could hear the radio’s human voice mirage
I assured him that I would turn off the radio and he seemed happy
So he left me thinking he was one who was more than a little wacky.

© Paul Warren Poetry