There's this creature walking
past my window,
with hair of silk,
a piercing white garment,
somewhat luminous.
Her footsteps rhyme with the
tender wind, and the 3am moonlight
casts not a shadow of her!
She stops a little and looks past
her shoulder, and stares,
with glittery blood thirsty eyes
straight at me, then continues on.
I too leave my cottage and follow,
not with curiosity but love
of death alone.

© Joseph