In the quiet still, of the night...
when the city rests it's eyes,
The only one awake, is Me
Weaving verses,
beneath the moonlit skies.

Amidst gentle candles, and their glow.
I dream of love and hope forevermore,
the moon's glow baths
the whole place, through it's beam
A pleasant solitude, a poet's silent dream.

A gentle hush, of the winds,
sway the curtains in a dance.
As the quiet howls of the winds, stop.
A figure I gaze upon,
standing near the window's pane now...

It calls my name, in a cherishing tone.
at the moment, in the room anymore,
I wasn't alone.
I stand at once, walking towards where
it stood, it felt as if it was familiar...
the things I loved, it too understood.

Robes of ash grey, but paints of colours it
had, what he wore.
Marks of beauty...Like a painter does
after finishing a work.

Although covered in skeleton
and thin bones,
To me it felt, beneath...