Night loots us of our time
Hints of defeat through me
Yielding to one final pun
And shared flashing glaze

But our will stays cloaked
As we take a step back
Our hearts talking low
A fading Morse code

Quick! Says a darting bird
Fierce is nature’s way
Trophies bared up high
Strong men do have firm grips

And though I seize the high-prized advise
Distracted by labor and wraiths
Can’t set my mind with it
Keeping me away from heap

And our will stays cloaked
As we take a step back
Hearts talking low
A fading Morse code