tit bit

Black cloak of pitch, all colours enveloped.
Rhythmic breath under the spell of midnight.
A scene of silence, film undeveloped.
Pinpricks in oblivion blinking bright.

Suffocating blanket of arguments
unresolved. Shadows dance to the moon's song.
Stories of tomorrow to ears untold.
Trees whisper secrets of days that are gone.

Inevitable day breaks through Her glow,
The pallet is present, it paints a new past.
Nature's song lifts the everlasting cloak,
Awaiting His spell of night to be cast.