The Cold Of Night

Fruitful orange and winter red,

Fall withering,

Mounting piles across frozen ground,

Some where the wayward caw,

Of the stumbling bird whose lost its known way,

If a gaze at a full moon could bring back the bright day,

We'd find our barren path,

Beaten back by desolate shadows,

Trying to frighten us away,

BEGONE SPIRITS!

Don't want to cry again today,

But this heavy heart,

Weighs down our soul,

So cold,

So cold,

Can the frozen white moon light a way home?

As we walk into the dark with out a sound.