Gliding soundlessly through the bleak nightThe haunted souls were weary of the lightsTheir days were wakeful with the plightsTheir nights sleepless with these barefoot strides A beautiful oak with crumbling leavesHad just begun shedding it's mightReminiscing passions that were bound to grieveIt rooted strongly for those benign delights In this lane abundant with streetlightIt gave …
Certainly Doubtful 