The shadowed sigh of weary nights
breathes comfort as it rests.
It shuts its eyes ‘neath moonlit skies
and dreams of east to west.
The restless purr of winds that stir
claws wildly at the air.
The night disturbed by thoughts unheard,
by midnight’s blackened glare.
The thoughtful mind cannot decide
what occupies its sleep.
The cruel, the kind, the both we’ll find
and both are ours to keep.