Walking slowly through your garden,
Touching souls that I have known.
Some are starving for the moonlight,
Some have never really grown.

Like a graveyard that keeps yawning,
Spirits often fear the gate.
Hiding shadows from the lightning,
Always showing up too late.

As I venture towards the pathway,
Feeling eyes that burn my core.
There's a Raven draped in satin,
...