There’s a little ledge on Lombard street
Just outside our house
And midnight trucks passing over it
Will sometimes a sleeper rouse.
A hollow thud, a lonely sound,
But it comes to me
To herald the existence, through the night,
Of humanity.
And the train-track rumble from the north
With its waning whistle warning,
Tells me that I am not alone
These long dark hours till morning.
And your sweet snoring never could be
Grating or distressing
The breath of one soul dear to me
I’ll evermore count a blessing.

Remember as a child at the bottom of the stairs
Looking up debating
In your mind, if you should climb
Where comfort could be waiting?
Looking up where the stairs
Disappeared in darkness,
Knowing that your parents there
Lay asleep, oblivious?
Am I too old, I wondered,
Now sleeping in my own room
To go back to my mom again?
Heart beating in the gloom.

Life’s like a seed in dark soil hidden
All the lonely night,
And sounds we hear are signs of life
Buried from our sight.
Perhaps as a child I took heart
Outside my parents door,
It stilled my fears a little bit
Just to hear them snore.

These sounds are midnight promises
That human life goes on,
And like a closed poppy it will wake
And blossom with the dawn.