Call Of The Night Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Into the growing dark
Deep for what will be
Nowhere a glowing spark
Only shadows to see
Sunshine is gone away
Sleeping time on
For now in its somber gray
For summers are gone

Come to the river
Mountains are high
Shallow water will deliver
Dark oceans sky
All is frozen outside
No heat weaving beat
The icily will glide
Every empty street

Come to the snowy clay
To struggle alone
In the cold outside way
Where coil has blown
All is within the dark
Misty thoughts to give
Though sky might spark
Where twinkling stars live