Dead of Night

The midnight bird whispers an eerie song
as the wind's howls sing along.
The stars, yet abundant, are all alone,
as the clouds cry, for they have no home.
The moon feels as if she is the only one of her kind,
as the moons of Mars dream of love to find.
The creek flows soft and tired, with no where to go,
as the tree's silhouettes sway and grow.
The town is empty with no one awake,
As the little girl cries to God for her soul he can take.