The evening’s ghost clings fast to your bowed head,
The morning sunlight trickling through the night,
You leave the dark souls to play with their dead,
Turning your eyes to dawn’s soft crimson light.
The music of midnight fades out of sight,
Animated dolls collapse where they stand,
Sleeping kids exit their worlds full of fright,
Whispering back to the warm, living land.
And Morpheus slowly lets go your hand,
Taking your waking dreams far, far away,
Leaving you so still, staring where you stand
Though you silently beg for him to stay.
And the faintest talons of night’s brisk cold,
Vanish as black becomes glittering gold.