The Whistle

A whistle rides the air,
On a gentle breeze,
Through the darkness,
Through the night.

The lone sound,
Breaks the silence,
Slow and steady,
Sad and sweet.

Echoing off brick walls,
Bouncing down the street,
The only sound,
Through the night.

The sound so lovely,
The sound so sweet,
Riding the breeze,
Riding the street.

The only noise heard at night,
The sweetest noise to me,
The last noise I'll hear,
The last noise I'll hear.

Until morning,
When it comes again,
Birds will line the trees,
Whistle through the day.