The creaking of the midnight hour
Creeping on ever closer
Crawling in, like a thick fog
Sent straight from the midnight bog
Almost all tend to sleep
Deep within the forest keep
But one still tosses and still turns
Feeling her body continue to burn
She moans and walks to the window seat
To the midnight hour, she wishes to speak
She sighs and chants, softly at first
For her, the midnight hour can heal her curse
The fog surrounds her forest home
Calling out to her, to go and roam
To leave her home, and join the others
To jump from her room, float on midnights feathers
The midnight hour creeps around her
Asking her to leave with him forever
It swirls around her, begging her
To join him, the midnight hour.
