When sleep is sought by those within,
lights doused and
dreams freed,
comes the time of the Night House.
The time of soft sleeping sighs,
of ticking clocks and
dripping sinks,
speaking gently.
The time of complaining timbers,
of creaking boards and
groaning doors,
talking quietly.
The time of somber solitude,
of gathering dust and
tasks undone,
waiting silently.
When sleep is sought by those within,
lights doused and
dreams set free,
comes the time of the Night House.
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