Wraith

Wraith

I saw a spectral phantom late last night.
It cut through me like a cold December wind.
An apparition in the faintest candle light
I know not how the spectre of death got in.

It rousts me from my slumber to go with it,
but for now, I think, no more shall I delay.
I feel a hole in my tender stomach's pit.
Sunlight in the breach as night falls away.

Safe from the phantoms of faded twilight,
and shadows of gloom on the bedroom wall.
They'll creep silently in the dark of night
and I'll bathe in sunlight til' they call.

Night has fallen and I smell its' foul breath.
Like a stench from the deepest of catacombs.
Horrid carrion of Hell and the harpy of death,
he permeates my walls and invades my home.


In the final hours as the candlelight fails,
I resign myself to sleep as I do every night.
Pray the sun rises and a coffin lacks nails,
as the Wraith left me to my darkening plight.

© Copyright 2005 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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