Thin shadows gobble up the grass,
The sun tumbles into the sea,
Things are stalking other things,
Come home — come, and be safe with me.
Black vines may scratch against the glass,
But all my panes are locked too tight,
So you may close your eyes at last,
For I can see you through the night.
Your hands may rest, held tight in mine,
While in your dreams you will fly free,
And if day breaks before you wake,
I’ll toss the sun back in the sea.