Little bird singing I can hear your sweet song

As you tell the stars stories of your day

Your feathers plump up and blend with the darkening sky

Your beautiful tune lulling weary children to dreams and calm sleep


The sky is a whirpool of sunset, as orange is drowned by grey

And clouds sweep up the remains of light with dusky shades that please the night

The stars peep downwards as the clouds drift past

Like a needle that’s pierced the thick grey sky to a brighter world beyond this universe


The flowers tuck themseles away behind petals that are now merely monochrome

Any colour waterwashed away as light fades into a misty peaceful bleakness

The world is quiet apart from the distant hum of a fading day

With sound slowly fizzling up into the atosphere and slipping forever away


The moon is just a quarter tonight, the remains shaded in a dark navy blue

But the light it provides is pure silver white, yellowing the ugly streetlights

Everything here is artificial and the beautiful sky grimaces down at our falsity

Except for ancient trees whose branches look like spilled ink trickling down a page


Of course it isn’t bed time for all, whilst others come out to embrace the anonymity

Tucked up asleep every diernal creature forgets the world continues to tick

Lives are lived and strives are fought, and creatures enjoy the sweet night

So still, peaceful, empty, because all that happens is out of the sleepings sight

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