Night moves slowly,

Quietly creeping closer

Towards the roof tops and

Through the trees.

Then gently,


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,


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.