Snore

The Night‑time Serenade

In the hush of midnight’s soft embrace,
A low, rumbling timbre starts to trace,
Like distant thunder on a summer’s night,
A snore that paints the dark with gentle fright.

It rolls forth from the sleeper’s open mouth,
A saw‑tooth sigh that wakes the house to sloth,
Each vibration shakes the quilted seam,
A lullaby that’s half‑awake, half‑dream.

The cat, unimpressed, flicks a lazy tail,
While neighbours mutter through the thin‑wall veil,
“Blast that nocturnal, honking brass!”
Yet somehow it feels oddly, fondly class.

So raise a cup of tea, let worries cease,
For in that gruff, endearing sound we find peace—
A reminder that life’s odd, noisy choir
Can still be loved, even when it’s higher‑pitched than fire.