Night moves slowly,

Quietly creeping closer

Towards the roof tops and

Through the trees.

Then gently,

Falls

Over the dying day

And settles.

Calmly amongst

Our sleeping forms

She tiptoes now,

A little heavier

With the secrets of our dreams

And she smiles,

Knowingly,

Into her misty darkness.

But almost as if

This knowledge embarrassed her,

She becomes a little girl,

Blushing bright pink innocence

As she slips away

Into the breaking dawn.