the birds are growing ever quiet, now the cats have come inside.
the evening sun once drowning, now slips beneath the clouds and dies.
like all of tomorrow's dreams gift wrapped in yesterday's fallow truths
still there's beauty in the world, and wrapped in it is you.
the cats have ceased their prowling finding the exits are all barred
or at least closed to egress, to the night, the world in dark.
like all of the midnight pleasures lost in the antiquities of hope
there's still beauty in the world, that love deep within our souls.