I am fond of the shadows
Thick soft blankets
Protection from the tension of the light
I favor walking down empty sidewalks
Illuminated only by the gentle glow of street lamps

It’s quiet here
In a manageable eerie sense
The footprints left by yesterday
Are the only signs of life here

During the witching hours
Where the world is at its most silent and asleep
Magic fills the air
Creating a new reality

I feel like a guardian
—Or a ghost—
Of the night
Watching over the slumbering people of the city
So they stay undisturbed in time for tomorrow’s strain

I walk through the cold, empty streets
Alone
As a keeper of the night.