In the quiet of the night when even leaves forget to rustle,
Whilst the weary watchmen wait, but stirring not a muscle;
You may see a fleeting shadow, darting here and there,
Though the silence is not broken as into the gloom you stare.
You’ll wonder what it is, or were your eyes just playing tricks?
The only sound you hear is your wrist-watch as it ticks.
Wide-eyed and wondering, you are suddenly awake;
Your heart begins to pound as though it’s going to break.
Every night he ventures forth, his quest is not to fail,
From the shadow of the trees he watches, in the light so ghostly pale,
He knows when you have seen him, he knows when you’re aware;
He’ll melt into the quiet night and leave you wondering there.
He’s a lonely soul, condemned to roam, in the quiet of the night;
Not a sound he makes as he flits by, in the eerie, starry light.
He’s never caught and seldom seen, and no harm does he do,
But every night he watches all the folks, like me and you.
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