Above the earth where the heavens lay
The sky was turning an ashen gray
The lights of the city were blaring like white noise
But in the suburbs of Illinois
Everything was brilliant and shone so clear
It was looking through a truth-telling mirror
With the moon omnipresent
And the air crisp but pleasant
All was beautiful and bright
In the setting of the night
Little houses with children tucked in
Sleeping away the darkness, waiting dawn to begin
Wolves’ bane at the woeful moon
There cries are calling one soon
To sit out on the white wicker chair
Listening to their mournful despair
The inky sky would be purpling
As the breeze nudges the swings
At the house down the street
Where the children run free in bare-feet
But in a gray apartment in a gray city
The white noise is blaring
And no one seems to be caring
That the sky is not even night time
Too many lights shine like daytime
Taxis honk and pedestrians swear
The night has descended but the city doesn’t care
The peace of the breeze is lost without trees
The curtains by the windows ruffle, but it’s a tease
The moon is dim its color is draining
Head out the window, craning and straining
To hear the wolves as they cry out for help
Their whimpers and barks and their yelps
No swing is ruffled, no metals groans
Like the rattling of ancient bones
Children are on the street at four in the morning
When they should be in bed, sleeping, snoring
This place is so different, the sounds are foreign
And even as the darkest of nights has fallen
The moon is graying away
The lights shine like its day
And the scattered stars, littered across the sky
No one can even see them twinkle as they cry
Longing for the grace of the Illinois night sky
A friend since, I bade goodbye