Madamoiselle L'Vampyre - the Shade

Mademoiselle L'Vampyre - The Shade The view of Paris, from the home she made was such a sight no other eyes have layed, and she could see right down the River Seine in soft moonlight; and any passing men would never know who waited in her shade. Just near the Pont des Arts she hanged alone from aging timbers neath the weathered stone unrecognized by any passers-by who might have reasoned something's caught their eye, but then dismissed the thought they might have known. And what they never knew, took to the flight as daylight yields unto the dark of night, if she had seen one man she'd recognize as one of wealth, but hunger in his eyes, she'd set her mind to make his evening right. And how his heart would falter in his fear when all at once she made herself appear to where he swore no one was there at all, with wetted lips, and eyes that brought his fall-- she could have touched his face--she was that near! There's not a breath of life from him, until, she eases him, so she can make her kill, and as they stroll, their conversation goes from summer rain to how he thinks he knows his love for her is gyven to her will. The life of Paris is its' evening glow and shows itself to those who'd have it show; this much is love--all your dear heart can feel when Paris bares its' soul, your love is real, but by the Seine, it's more than one should know! And so she cuts her mark and lays love deep while he lets out his life--it's hers to keep; and satisfied, for now, to be undead he'll leave her world with visions in his head of dreaming on her, when he goes to sleep. There's but a trace of light, predicting dawn, as, satisfied, she wonders where night's gone. So wakens Paris from the night she's known as she takes to the wing, and then has flown back to her habitat where she dies on. © ron wilson arbuthnot aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet