The moon is shining through my window
I think in silence to write this poem
My mind runs wild under the disguise of darkness
Starving for style, as I feed this hungry artist  

Then sounds of screaming consume my thoughts
Just beyond my window, I can hear it trot
Should I feed my curiosity? I ought not
Finally look outside to see a furry red fox

Something about noises in the nighttime, they never fail to disturb
Deeply afraid of what we might find, unveil the curtain to a great unknown
Shades of Beckett with a dose of Hitchcock, as I slowly await for nothing to return
Waitin for the moment I can hear a pin drop, but oh my clock, how it loves to slow

As each night passes, the more certain I am of how little I know
Tricked by those glasses, at a distance even bronze looks like gold
Stock up on rose-colored lens, see the world for only good
But Satan surrounds our broken fences, danger lurks in quiet woods