There is a creature in the night.
It is the wind that races around street corners
And taps on your shutters.
It is the cold silent blue lurking between slumbering rooftops.
It is the sliver of pockmarked white that casts a slinking shadow
As she climbs up the black.
It is the leaves of the oak,
Whispering
Whispering
Whispering.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 4:48 PM UTC
There is a creature in the night.
It is the wind that races around street corners
And taps on your shutters.
It is the cold silent blue lurking between slumbering rooftops.
It is the sliver of pockmarked white that casts a slinking shadow
As she climbs up the black.
It is the leaves of the oak,
Whispering
Whispering
Whispering.
