Only Death

How sweet tis the evening with the silver moon alive, along with the dancing shadows among the sins of an apple tree. The branches that swing its evergreen leaves, trying to touch the black sky. Wishing to harvest the moon on an October night sky. The winds that sings a sickening lullaby. So unique it stings the air with a bittersweet scent of death. Clawing the night with open claws, only to clasp what's not yours. The spirits that scream to hope, by morning their souls to keep. For when the bells toll, No one but death, shall know.