When the sun is set
And the moon is lit,
There are no secrets,
Just emptiness.
The sky is black
Dotted with lights.
The atmosphere is still,
With just the noise of
The crickets singing
And the wolves howling.
The house is dark,
No one is stirring,
Only the flickering
Light of the TV left on.
The huge, looming windows
Staring down menacingly.
The small, tiny door, bolted shut.
Impossible to get in. Impossible to get out.
The one little window
In the corner, open,
Curtains slapping against the
Windowsill from the wind.
The hard pavement,
As dark as night.
The almost silent feet,
Gliding across, never
To turn around again.