The Walk

The rain is beating harder,
The streets are darkened.
Night has cast its long shadow,
Over the town, and old homes.

Walking, the man looks at the sky.
Clouds and rain block the stars.
He is wet. But he minds not.
In fact, he rather enjoys it.

He is at ease tonight.
The people in their houses, nobody,
Is out tonight. Abandoned town.
He walks to nowhere, but he takes his time.

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The Ghostly Figure

The shadows are growing deeper,
Cast by the light of the moon,
Like a doll in a black casket.
I should think I am losing my mind.

Though you are not here, I see you.
What are you doing?
Are you lost? Am I?
Where are you going? Come back.

Why are you so dirty? So bruised.
Was it I who did this?
Was it I who hurt you so?
I wept, more than I wish to admit,
But it was my own doing wasn’t it?

I cannot remember. All I know is you’re gone.
Dead.
But are you? For I still see you.

The Army of Thelf

There was a man some time ago,
Who lived all by himself.
When walking the moors one day he saw,
The fairy queen of Thelf.

Confused and ‘fraid he kept afar,
Not knowing what to do,
When one by one, she made a call Her army surely grew.

He crept away, behind a tree,
Hiding from her men,
When one by one the soldiers came,
They killed him there and then.

His blood was fresh and pure and red,
The army bath in it,
For on this night in the cold of Thelf,
Not a single star is lit.

One by one the army march,
Back to their old queen,
Small and dark, the night is old,
A perfect night to dream.