The Widow's Moon

The Widow’s Moon

The moon’s soft glow caresses me
as I lay waiting for her dream
to take me from this place of strife.
Her nightly visits often seem
as though I live another life.

Her radiance takes me away
yet something’s different tonight.
Her touch has lost the warmth of love;
her murmured words are filled with spite
as she glares from the sky above.

I’m cast into a darkened void;
no tether keeps me from the fall
nor light illuminates the way.
Fear’s acid bile prevents my call.
I cannot find the words to pray.

Bereft, I’m filled with deep dismay.
I come to doubt that I exist
except as thought within my mind.
No warmth or cold, yet I persist
as I continue onward, blind.

The globe above, I thought the moon,
now moves with purpose, striking fear.
The dance of shadows takes new form;
its arachnoid shape becomes clear
as I watch it slowly transform.

I try to run but cannot move;
its silk has bound me in my place.
‘This can’t be real; it’s just a dream,”
I feel the sweat upon my face
and hear the words in my own scream.

I sense that now it’s time to feed;
its fangs find purchase in my throat.
The poison burns; I’m paralyzed.
Between sweet death and life I float
and in the calm, I’m mesmerized.

Soon comes the sun, a bright new day
and this will fade like mist in light.
And so I pray, in His name’s sake,
to take the darkness from the night.
I wait in vain for dawn to break.


A "Muse Masters" creation.

Convention: Emphasis on Assonance ~ The effect created when words with the same vowel sound are used in close proximity - but where the consonants in these words are different.
Form: Nocturne ~ (Italian Notturno) As the name suggests the Nocturne is poetry suggestive of the moods of night. The Italian rhyme is abcbc.
Genre: Supernatural/Horror

Thank you for taking time to read my words. As long as you’re here, please, take a moment and leave a comment. Thoughts, reactions, criticisms, and/or even praise – all are welcome.