The night has fallen,
Through hours of day,
The pink cotton sheets,
Upon which I lay,
No longer have the duty,
Of keeping me warm,
But collect wrinkles on my bed,
To which they conform.
The streets lay barren,
In silent nightfall,
The only light illuminating from the moon,
A bright, glittering, ball.
The white noise of cricket symphonies,
The chime of a clock,
Like the music of a heartbeat,
Tick-tock, Tick-Tock.
Winter memories collect dust,
Like old photographs in a frame,
Sitting in the summer cool breeze,
On a wooden windowpane.
Far away in the distance,
Through the haze and the heat,
The coyotes howl,
The owls hoot,
They never skip a beat.
Though your room may feel like a desert,
And your house a steamy sauna,
The joys that summer nights bring,
Range from the flora, to the fauna.
The dew-dropped grass,
The cardinals and bluejays in the air,
The somehow loud silence,
Filling gaps everywhere.
So goodnight to summer nights,
Please, come again soon,
Because the true peacefulness of night,
Comes out of Pandora’s box,
On the 21st night of June.