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Oct 2018
The day  has now gone here is the night
It's twelve o'clock all lights gone out
Not a single soul no one insight
We look out the window no one about.

Eyes are weary we are fighting sleep
Time to clime up that wooden hill
Waiting for us is the bed and sheets
Tired and drowsy sleep we will.

The evenings are colder
The frost here again
But we are much older
And our health's not the same

So as we head to that slumber land
And we dream our cares away
We pull up the blankets with our hands
And say goodnight to the day.
These cold nights a nice warm bed is welcoming.
Christopher Victor Russon
Written by
Christopher Victor Russon  Birmingham
         Cathy, Traveler, almost efni, Wren, A Harris and 106 others
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