mystery whispers in
the shadows
when winter has come
to sleep
the breath of
nightfall circles
where the little
children creep
the moonbeams in the
windows stream
and all the chaos
blends in droves
around the curtains
in a dream
raising spirits,
echoing snores
the elves, the
fairies, the hobgoblins
take their turns to
play and flit
in empty spaces of
the silence
in doorways or
windows scarcely lit
and so the nighttime
moves along
where imagination
creates the song
