Midnight Series Poem by MAGNUS KING

The morning went spent with evening
And darkness and deep sleep followed
I find myself freed from the harshness of the midday heat
And storms of unbearable terror
When as your name came from the whistling wind
Through the sun of life: the orator of breath
It was soft, sweet and gentle
Kind, mild, and bright
And brightened my soul
When as I heard 'Jane! Jane! ! Jane! ! !
You were there
And I was here
When I rose up
I was alone
And had been watching from the midnight series