Change

The moon climbed high, a silver gleam,
Upon the slumbering, silent town.
No whispered word, no waking dream,
As shadows softly settled down.
The stars, like dust, began to fade,
And dawn crept in with gentle hand.
A subtle change, a new parade,
Across the still and waking land.
The birds then stirred, a sleepy tune,
A soft unfolding of the light.
Beneath the waning, sleepy moon,
The world had turned from dark to bright.