Here is another effort to expand upon the stand-alone poems I’ve written on Twitter in recent months. This one adds forty new lines to the initial four.
A late and lonely moonlit eve,
Your dress windswept as if a sail—
Do shadows seem to catch your sleeve
And lead you down the garden trail?
And are there whispers on the breeze?
Sweet nothings spoken in your ears
But indistinctly, as to please
Romantic whims while fueling fears?
Within the wicked, witching hours
Your own transgression past the gate
Presents you midst nocturnal flowers,
Adorned for your appointed date.
And is it by your own free will
That you so often stand alone
When all at once the air grows still
While still you shiver to the bone?
Then is it fear alone that holds you
That forces you upon your knees
That bids the distant shades behold you
Beneath dark clouds and bending trees?
Or is it more than just the weather
That parts the curtains of your room,
And binds you with an unseen tether,
Its anchor on the edge of doom?
Though sinister appears the presence
Ahead of you along your way
Your throbbing heart portends a pleasance
Unheard of in the light of day.
Is this what bids you loose your sheath
When you have heard the darkness speak?
Do you expect it to bequeath
Its secrets to the blesséd meek?
Or do you strive for some resilience
And cling at length to all your cover
‘Til cowed by some ferocious brilliance
You glimpse within your phantom lover?
What mysteries would someone find
By trailing you into the night?
The fits of an unquiet mind
Or hidden truths of mad delight?
And in the fading pre-dawn mist,
Found tousled on the cold concrete,
How quick are you to quite insist
You’d merely dreamt upon your feet?