Maybe it was the way the wind whispered its promise of cold,
Or the gaze of the moonlight that was to unfold,
I wasn't at all certain of what this night would bring,
Whether i would lose track of what has long been missing.
Definitely not in the way that the stars were indefinite,
Although the crickets were engrossed with the battle of wit.
As I wonder what is to come of the night so young,
I heard the ascending roar of what would find me wrong.