The Night of Her

Her hair was blonde and it took some time,

To realize what she meant in all this climb.

My Abby was light,

Keen hearted on not losing the fight.

Many say, that as nightmares fade away,

Perfect beings start to contemplate.

Even black dogs ran at the sight of her,

Leaving most of us in a box, shaped of gold.

That being said, I guide my steps on more 

And that completes my pitch-black show.