The sun has closed it's one huge eye
and yet I sit here in the glow
of my candle, burning low,
as leaves like tiny corpses blow
along the cold, hard earth.
Looking out into the night,
naked trees, their branches loom
like evil spirits breathing doom;
shapeless shadows in the gloom,
they reach out in the dark.
Nature's fingers tap! tap! tapping!
Tapping on my window pane!
I think it's driving me insane!
And what's left of the candle's flame
is guttering.
Patrina Olszewski
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