Camelot

Camelot

Friday, May 16, 2014

The Coming Of Night

The days pass
Too quickly
On this
Aphotic isle
Where demons rise
With glowing eyes
To scour
The countryside
For willing brides

The nights rise
With its torrid gloom
My senses pure
I howl at the moon
She beckons
With surging tides
My voice lowers
As I croon

She bids me dance
I stomp my feet
Clap my hands
As if in a trance
Will he find me?
Tonight is a night
For romance

I sway to the music
Of the fading light
The drums roar
Heralding the coming of night
My pulse quickens
I sense he is near
I have no reason
To fear
But my feet
Are ready for flight

I feel him
He whispers in my ear
And my wickedness
My wickedness
She knows
He is just right


Copyright © Allene Angelica 2014