Song of the Night
Grace, Age 16, North Carolina


The moon is nowhere to be seen
No light shines on the grass that was once so green
Dark are the woods that surround me
The trees dance about me

Songs of sadness reach my ears
Sung by the bards with harps made from their listeners' tears
I sit and listen to the tales of old
Forgetting about the cold

While listening, I fall into a dream
As their words become serene
The wind blows the trees’ leafless branches
And whispers sweet romances

Red and purple streaks light the dark sky
The bards wave goodbye
The dancing trees are stilled
And I long for the whispers to be fulfilled.

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