Grayscale

Sleep called from behind those smoke drowned drooping eyes.
The heavy lidded, demure gaze.
Deep breaths raked her frail shoulders.
The house darkened itself into an unending maze.

Silent thunders broke through the window pane,
The brief lightning followed,
Each time the clock struck a new melodious game
A cat meowed outside in the shadows

A creaking footboard in an otherwise empty house,
A dimly lit candle to chase the dark
A whispering caress calling out from the mirror
The weird call of despair made by the lone lark

The mirror reflected unseen and disembodied people
The world turned a shade of gray
The cross outside the window lost and forgotten
By the last child who stepped in the house to play.