Speak, slowly, it’s dark,
candle, fire, a little spark,
a step, walk, you stumble,
leaf, falls, a crumble.

A shadow falls, ov’r the sky,
the day dies, without a cry,
the dog barks, the hen sleeps,
dead leaves, the widow sweeps.

Dawns the dark on the night,
voices sleep whispering bright.
I come n’ sit, on the chair,
watching the floor, barely fair.

The cold came whispering me tales,
of dead birds, n’ silent wails,
of drowning men, n’ fallen kings,
of crying girls, n’ empty swings.

The blinds were dull,
the air was a lull,
The eyes were sleep,
a distant weep.

I clutched, the wood,
I slowly stood,
One hand had...