My night’s king.

The dark swept its hand over the sky,

Shushing all weeping candles to rest

Stepping over branches and twigs, cracking and dry 

A fog reigns now, a night’s arrest.

 

His reign is of beauty, of terror and of love,

Of a maiden thrice had and a wounded dove.

Of a cloaked lady in white, a ghost of fleeting memories

And her story of how,

This night never ends and every one must bow.

And she slips into reveries

 

Side by side, with the reigning fog

She sings, she dances, her bones prattle about

How this night never ends and the fog never sends

That note he wrote, about that book she quote

So he suffers in silence, cold and dark

She suffers in celebration and in the songs of the lark.

 

That take her back to when, the fog would not bend

To the whims of the dark, on that dismal journey he would not embark

She didn’t know better, or she would never

Even in her dreams, leave his side, she would make him abide

Now he’s gone, reigning the lands of the night

Now he’s gone, lost to the light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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