The night was young and it was
As if it were alive …

Soft steady rains fell to the earth,
Tinkling upon the window and
In that moment she realized that
Time was growing old. The ticking
Of the clock down the hall whispered
To her soul.

A notion took hold, as she sat there
By the hearth, stoking the fire to
Bring it back to life. In a corner a
Cricket sang its song, seeking refuge
From the dampness outside.

In the flames, she saw a tiny embrace
Of embers crackling as the dance
Continued. In that moment a chill
Ran up her spine as a shadowy figure
Loomed, just outside.

With curiosity piqued, she wandered
To the window to see just what it was
That lingered. Much to her chagrin,
It was only the trees.

A sigh escaped her lips, as her heart
Slowed its beat.