Midnight Caller
‘Let me in.’ He knocks again.
‘Why?’ Beyond the door’s eye
his nose and tawny beard
loom in purple shadow.
Perplexed, he pauses,
scratches, smiles.
‘Because I live here.’
Once, on a warm May afternoon,
I gave him water and a smoke.
He held the rose bush
while I firmed it in.
He showed me
how to bait the slugs.
We spun philosophies
Together; until I’d tired of patience;
I made excuses,
went inside
and watched him linger
gazing fondly at my door.
‘No, you don’t,’
I know I have to say.
He shuffles up the path.
I watch again; he pauses, turns,
and gazes,
shrugs his coat
higher, to his ears.
And I go back to bed.
More about Lesley
Since retiring Lesley Fraser has been able to indulge in a life-long love of writing. She writes for pleasure and her more successful and satisfying pieces are about topical issues.
Lesley completed her Diploma in Creative Writing at the University of Oxford’s Department of Continuing Education (Kellogg College) and now belongs to the college’s writers’ group.