Rewrite of “At the Window”

The looming Oak trees pick up the voices of the wind
That caused an uproar of laughs from the weeping willows;
As the sun knew it was time for its shield of light to rescind.

Between the two mountains the graveyard becomes hidden,
By the grey cloak of mist that envelope the tombstones, while
The light of the lampposts ooze out, revealing the forbidden.

The green foliage of the trees chat as they soar past the window pain,
To the eager, heavy eyes (Synesthesia) alert on the face looking from the blackness (Metonomy)
At the mystical scene which from this window will never wane.