Midnights are caricatures of dreams
Like the quick mist upon the morning
Licking the forest tree lines and city skylines
Sometimes it stands like a smoke phantom with a dagger
And mouth wide agape as like a dying strangled cockerel
Sometimes they come airy, with mild words, softer
Maybe with some rain, which makes all even milder
The lullabies play on the roof top, the rain drums
It celebrate the nights quietness, the rain and her wind
And mostly, to the fatigued and snoring worker,
Who in the rains benevolence, a solace find
