Midnight's Passion

The wind is howling through the trees
it twists and churns forming the song of tragedies
while the creatures in the night scream and moan
the silver circle ever bright
as the blood boils
and the smells turn to that of musk
that tiny place in which you sleep
the sheets are drenched and wrenched
the night is cool against the heat
light burning through the dark
as silver circle lowers beyond the horizon
and all seem like a passionate dream of lover's embrace
till the creatures of the night return upon silver moonlight
and passion stronger then the night feels dreams once more
and all the facades melt away in earnest delight
and then once more, as creatures flee the light of dawn
so too must the facade of this life return to face
till the silver circle shines once more
and the blood may boil in the heat of the hour