Cold is the Night

The day dawns warm and friendly. The world stirs, swings its’ feet out of bed and yawns. 

The clatter of early risers begins, forcing those whose eyes are still prisoner to the chains of sleep to grumble and rise. 

Cheery cries of “Good morning!” and “Fare day!” swell to a cacophony of life. 

But night returns. 

And how cold is the night, filled with wailing. 

Oh, husbands, guard your doors and, therefore, your homes. Wives, guard your children and keep them close, for they are the future. 

The future that the night longs to rip away, screaming, from every doorway.