Night of the Souls
	
When  the  skies  turn  pale  black,
And  the  stars  shine  not  far  back.

The  crows  come  out  to  rant  and  rave,
and  souls  come  up  from  every  grave.

Out  come  followers  of  the  moon,
to  hear  the  chanting  of  deaths  tune.

Sweet  music  to  their  open  ear,
for  tis'  not  death  the  followers  fear.

They  jump  through  the  shadows  quietly,
a  screech  of  an  owl  sets  them  all  free.

They  come  back  to  the  yard  to  sit  and  rest,
the  night  will  be  over-  they've  finished  their  quest.

All  of  them  now  go  back  with  scorn,
the  fun  is  all  over  for  soon  'twill  be  morn.

The  followers  all  sink  into  the  ground,
soon  it  is  quiet  and  no  hear  of  sound.

Past  had  the  night  of  the  souls  been,
but  no  one  had  heard  and  no  one  had  seen.


by Jessica