Listen to the sigh of the dwindling light
The sun which sinks from keen sight
The night which breaks the breaking shore
As the shoulders of youth whispers into the night
The garnished trees yearn for the glistening morn  
Skitter, the shadows prance unnoticed and degrade
The smooth nails of children’s scorn
Clutch the bark of solemn frozen trees  
Their faces opaque, round eyes set to the sky
Waiting for that element to spark another in kind
The wild unsettles and curses with sinking voices
Boxing the children so their minds cannot brink
The land with furrow and thrash with roots
Boots uprooted glimmering red and yellow
Crayons which stack to a melting peak
Bleeding of imagination which once was crowned king
The children become afraid of the dark
Synthetic realms which bleach their skin
They become afraid to what silence has to say
They are afraid what their hands can create