Tomato

Like a thief.

He tiptoes in, shod black trainers
His bag the veil for your light.
Your bedside apparition black,
The colour of the night.

His torches beam sees your precious jewel,
And pops it in his bag.
His goggled eyes no mystery,
The night shift on a blag.

The divine comedian chuckles out
He's had his bit of fun.
Returning from his midnight jog,
To read the morning paper.