When the window shade presumes
To its bountiful spot that night
And many sleeping children doze
There is one that stays upright

With her amber crimson locks of glory
Are tied back slick begins her story
Presumes the night of un-slept sleep
Which actions want to begin to speak

The covers of unwrinkled bareness
Are thrown forward in a way of careless
And on tiptoe toes of breathless time
Makes a hearable sound of a dropping dime

As of her mission something yet unknown
But to the black of the night she sees
Something yet of herself a drone
Sees the ring of swaying keys

Turning keys of symbolist freedom
Shine in ways of savored faith
Keys glide through the manipulative hole
She will now presume her untold toll

Nothing but time
Everything but space
Presumed kept thoughts
The revealing sound of discouraged breathing

Bare night of soothing grass
With droplets of sparkling dew
Time passes through the field of an unseen night
Before the time comes, bringing light

Down the paves of charcoal road
A railway system of freedom
Is what this is of told
Nothing but the acquaintances of scampering mice

Gingerbread house of undiscovered faith
Is what lies at the corner of unpolished wisdom
Light of which a candle burns
Door of heart opens, discovered turns
As of the sign
Of unknown faith
Draws within
A newborn trace

Here inside
Contains the freedom of way
The freedom of hope
The Underground Railroad.