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The Nightime
The sun admits defeat to the moon,
Though even if it’s winter it seems much too soon.
Darkness wraps her arms around each and every thing,
Holding them tight yet gently when she begins to sing;
Her lullaby so sweet but chilling to put everyone to rest,
Even the birds who are young and hungry fall asleep in their nest.
When her work for the night is finally done the night lets her grip fall away,
The sun too awakening stands in the air, to admit the break of day.
I like this poem. It's a very poetic view of the nightime. I didnt know you could write so well. Keep up the good work.
Love, Your sis.