When evening comes
and the leakey faucet disturbs the universe
the cue is made for the music of the night to begin.
Voices of the dead and dying interrupt the peaceful silence,
and the sound of claws on the bedroom window
keeps time for their singing that carries on in the deserted streets --
the chambers of the sleeping mind.
To children, the voices are the source of dreams --
nightmares never to be remembered.
"Grown-ups" deny that they even exist.
But to the few who believe in the chorus of death and pain,
the darkness of night is a seemingly eternal damnation,
during which mind nor spirit may ever rest in peace.
When the streetlights flicker out at dawn,
and the dark, damp October night sleeps,
the voices of death are muzzled and lonely
until evening --
the saviour of their night song --
returns from slumber to wake them from the dead.
