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On nights like this
Half of the world is asleep
And black bellied clouds rest upon the mountains
Sending rain to punish my roof
While heaven complains against the ebony night
Shadows dark as evil sprawl beneath the trees
And lovers laugh, dodging puddles as they run
Gutters gush, gargling the torrent
As half of the world is asleep on rumpled beds
While creatures watch from boughs and burrows
The sycamore slumps beneath the storm
Where a hawk is stranded on a sheltered limb
And streams and brooks boast beyond their bends
The scene is solemn beyond the window
Where rivulets slide, blending into each other like lovers
A glaring bolt slides over the peaks, through the clouds
And the clouds complain about it a moment after
As half of the world is asleep, but not me
I have too much forgetting to do about nights like this
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