|
| |
Toll and tallow
How dark the air that winter brings to bear
Its dampness crawls into my very soul
A sickly moon attempts some light to share
As through the mist a bell begins to toll
Against all odds, in saturated air
A moth flits round the incandescent glow
Of a candle flickering in despair
From witnessing that masochistic show
A fledermaus is beaten to its prey
By a widow descending on a thread
Vague shadowed forms of hounds are stood at bay
Watched over by an owl that turns her head
Two amber eyes now pierce this witching night
For tricks and treats that dwell beyond our sight ~
Copyright ©
Nigel Fawcett
|
|