The dark

The dark Is an old poem Written by Aldo Kraas

Everything looks different in the dark
Sometimes I imagine that things that are standing still are moving
And they are not; it is only in my mind
The dark sometimes can be frightening
The dark is like a burned paint
The dark must grieve alone for its lost friend
No one around to hear its silence
But the silence so peaceful that tears the heart
I look back as I am walking to see if anyone is following me
But thanks god no one is Only the sound of my footsteps I hear
The trees in the dark looks strange to me, I only see a dark shadow