Poem 10

The grill

Can't sleep, slip out of bed
and creep from the room,
taking care not to wake my wife.

The house in darkness
but I can see enough
to find my way downstairs.

In the hall come across a door
I haven't noticed before,
although we've lived here for years.

Turn the handle, the door opens
revealing steps I descend
to a vaulted cellar.

Sit on the stone floor
feeling the cold breath of night
through a grill, which I watch
for the first sign of dawn.