Others, in the evening,
Wait patient for the night.
A light rain falls, filled
With fully perfumed fears.
For the night is a season
In itself. It steps into
The outlight sure of itself
As it wraps the world
In its armour. The world
Grips the sword of sleep.
The sword of sleep drawn
From its shield of light,
We fight the grey ghosts
Imagination rains down,
A light rain that’s painted
On our souls, the pictures
That we are never in.
This is we most of us
Whose light withdraws
From the shield of sight
While others, more bold,
Wait hungry for the night.