By moonlight and mischief,
he steps from the shadows
a moth in motion, coat like cloaks of dusk,
lantern in hand, secrets in stride.
He does not wander. He arrives.
And wherever he goes,
the night hums with curiosity.
By moonlight and mischief,
he steps from the shadows
a moth in motion, coat like cloaks of dusk,
lantern in hand, secrets in stride.
He does not wander. He arrives.
And wherever he goes,
the night hums with curiosity.