Writer1326

As a storm rolls in,

something sinister begins-

to stir as the land cools,

preparing for the ruthless winter. 

Beings of the unknown come out to play,

When night descends onto the land, 

monsters terrorize the once peaceful minds-

of the souls who inhabit the Earth. 

The wind screeches as it dances through-

a vacant castle, once full of happy warmth,

Whispers of the wind brush past me,

Kicking up the fiery leaves,

As the trees begin to make a sea-

of dead leaves, creating a painting that weaves-

Being immortal means I watch the seasons change,

quicker than a mortal eye can blink. 

Though, I appreciate the beautiful range-

of colors of fall, it does not fill the sink-

hole in my immortal heart. 

I am certain that I am forever changing,

like the moon, who has different phases. 

I am certain that like the moon, I am drawn to the sea.

The peaceful sound of the waves creating music on the shore.