The windows are dark,
No one home to kindle their deep vacant eyes.
And so they blankly stare.

The sky is naked,
No shreds of cloud to shroud its vast relm.
And so its single unblinking eye stands vigil in the emptiness.

The distant train cries out,
No comfort to ease its lonely journey.
And so its keening echos on through the night.

The trees are silent and still,
No breeze to rock them to sleep.
And so the air hangs thick and black.

All these threads in the tapestry of night,
I notice because I'm trying not to remember
That this is our last night.