A longer version of my own poem "A Good Nights Kiss". |
The moon; a face; a jester’s grin, Glares down on trees and road. A night that fell like men of sin, Bared down by heavy load. The tree-line waved by hand of wind, The sound; like whispered voice. Alas, light let the darkness win, Through silent lack of choice. There stood a shadow; tall and slim, A silhouette, a ghost, a man. No warmth of life was cast from him, No comfort by his hand. He stole the night, embraced the black, And ran - no - glided forth. ‘Til all the trees fell to his back, And ahead; the cottage porch. The window tossed an amber glow, From fire that burned inside. With his hand, well-trained and slow, The windows lock; defied. Up and o’er the sill; like smoke, He rolled across the floor. The sleeping; not to be awoke, A girl, not seen before. He looked upon her, frail and weak, His face turned to dismay, “Why this girl?” he softly speaks, “Doth hold my fingers; stayed?” He stood, perched up above her, then, Removed a tainted glove. Touched to her face, his cold, dead hand, And whispered “is it love?” Alas he knew what must be done, To have her ‘til great end. Unsheathed were fangs, their color; bone, And plunged deep into skin, A trickle of blood down soft-skinned nape, From teeth that bear no life. Beautiful; though her innocence raped, Now cursed to walk the night. How she will wake, to gaze the sun, Skin burning, she’ll ask “why”. “You see”, come words of an un-dead one, “My love; our souls; combined”. |