[Soaring Feather]

Thank You snippy!! I want you to write until your fingers ache!

You have a lot to say!

[Old Sarge]

By request, Ms. Feather:

Night.
The abscence of light,
...but not of life.
For We are watching...

We are the ones in the back of the club, watching your mating rites with eyes glowing;

We are the ones behind the glass, feeding your bodies with empty food and emptier eyes;

We are the ones patrolling your streets, with blue suits and badges, and loved ones missing us;

We are the ones whose fingers dance on our keys, in the quiet of our rooms, in the dead of night;

For while the Moon sleeps, and the Sun dreams on,

We coast through the lines of your lives, on invisible threads of light,

Sharing our thoughts, which all ignore;
Sharing our dreams, which all deny us;
Sharing our selves, with none but ourselves...

Listen to Us...
The Children of the Night Shift...
What Music We Make.

(C) 1995 by John S. Rutt