Through the trees, in the midst of the night,
The black hills in the distance sparkled bright.
White and yellow, brightly lit, far away,
They urge one to bid adieu sunny day.
Gazing longingly into the darkness,
Reality ‘round me grows less and less.
Jumbled yellows produce quite a sight to see.
There in the dark, stood a golden city.
And the white lights luminous as halos,
Appeared to be Ms. Woolf’s gig lamps, set low.
What a pure and peacefully royal scene!
In awe, my only thoughts were, how serene.
Oh distant black hills housing such beauty,
Dark won’t prevail in the golden city.