As the bright sun burns out

The mysterious moon comes about;

As we rest our head is our soft warm bed

And we dream of dragons of Which we fled.

Everything is a dark cave blinding you from your surroundings

As you listen to the scary noises and poundings;

Creak goes the old decayed floorboards

Russell goes soft green the trees

as alongside the house Blose a nice subtle breeze.

The skittish animals run like race cars outside

To get away from prey in a safe place to hide.

Nighttime can be a scary place;

But if you look at it it's full of grace.

By Katie