By: Rob Sutherland, Filked from ‘The Children’s Hour’ by Longfellow
Between Eleven and Midnight
When my eyelids start to lower
Comes a pause and a lag in the postings
That I call the lurkers hour.
I know in the net around me
They wait in silence to greet
The new days crop of postings
All of the bitter, all of the sweet.
In my dream I see in the screen light
Their hands on the keyboards there
Grave faces or laughing with pleasure
Or choked with a grief hard to bear.
No whisper breaks the silence
Yet I know that my dreaming eyes
See the truth of us all together
And I’m taken by surprise.
By the love that flies away
To the silent lurkers all
Who keep their thoughts well guarded
And will never write on my wall.
And I give to you to inherit
My postings ugly or fair
And a blessing for lonely lurkers
Wherever you are out there.