Around Midnight Poem by Gretchen Kane

When the clock strikes twelve and people are sleeping,
there comes the sound of crying and weeping, Our souls come out for a glance and a dance
and if we awaken at midnight, by chance,
we're frightened out of our wits at the sight of this
most bizarre spectacle . . . around midnight. This sometimes is known as the witching hour.
These souls bounce about and try to devour our
feelings of joy and the sweetest of dreams, and
always, just about midnight, it seems. They play on our heads and taunt us and haunt us.
These poor tortured souls who are lonely and
aimless, who appear around midnight and ruin our
sleep, but we own them forever,
They're ours to keep.