Night

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Black is not the color of night Black is the color of absence of light The night is oft misunderstood, She'd be loved by Evil, shunned by Good. But She's real pretty, She's beauty's child, Roaming with storms and winds gone wild. She loves the Moon, her Mother high, She loves the bats, with her they fly. A Starlit robe so fine she wears, Only matched by Owl stares. Pale is her skin, She sees no sun, It is the light that she doth shun. But She is lonely, she is so cold, She doesn't want, unloved, grow old. Her Heart is empty, her soul alone, Her tears fall cold on ev'ry stone. What are her tears seen on the lawn, Is oft called dew, when seen at dawn. She only wants to find a mate, Someone to hold, to share her fate. Someone with love to warm her life, Someone who will call her his wife. This is why, on evenings late, When light has gone through Sunset Gate, You might hear whispers in your ear. Then listen well and have no fear. You'll hear her question in your mind, Are you the one that I must find, Will I find love when I'm with you, Are you the one, who's good and true, Will you give warmth when I am cold, Are you the one who I can hold? So if you hear her whisp'ring voice, Don't be afraid, don't think it's noise. Follow your Heart and listen well, You might be him, no one can tell. So know my tale, keep it in mind, You might be the one that she must find. The one with love to fill her life, The one who will call her, his wife. D. '98

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