Hush

It's approaching the witching hour again.

When a soft silence echoes throughout the house,
and the creaking floorboards take the strain.

When shadows seem to take on a life of their own,
and make us feel uneasy.
When the fearsome fermenting air makes us groan.

And now that terrible time has passed,
and nothing has changed.
Even though the cosmic void is vast. 

In fact, I feel rather mellow,
not agitated at all.
But I wouldn't like the darkness to be my bedfellow.