Working as a security guard late at night gives the brain time to wander. 
<u>The Nightguards’ Lament </u>

A wind through empty windows shifts

Some hanging plastic sheets. 

As rhythmic as the crashing surf. 

Sounds almost like heartbeats. 
It’s late so very late at night

In truth more early morn. 

I walk alone through cold stone halls

So empty and forlorn. 
If ever was a place to haunt

This place is surely it. 

Where specters stalk and spirits roam

And through the shadows flit. 
And as I walk may glimpse them from

The corner of my eye. 

May feel their breath upon my neck 

Or hear their mournful sigh. 
It’s late so very late at night

And all is deathly still. 

Even the wind has ceased to blow

So why this sudden chill? 
What is this shape where none should be?

In shadow darker yet. 

It cannot move I saw it move! 

A sudden clammy sweat. 
There’s nothing there it’s just a trick

That my eyes play on me. 

I tell  myself this lie again

Deny the things I see. 
I do my rounds and tell myself

It’s just an empty hall. 

Some beers and sleep will prove that it

Was nothing after all. 
Cheers Winston.