At The Midnight Hour Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

At the midnight hour,
when the world folds into itself,
a hush spreads across the sky.

The trees stand as witnesses,
their branches drawn like lines in the dark.
Shadows stretch long,
touching corners unseen by the day's eye.

The air thickens with secrets,
each whisper carried on a thread of silence.
A clock ticks somewhere,
its hands moving with the weight of eternity.

Time feels slower here,
the stars burn closer, brighter,
and in the night listens
as if it knows everything
but speaks nothing.