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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2170431-Specters-of-Midnight
by Crow
Rated: E · Poetry · Supernatural · #2170431
The amazing revelation of a Fall evening.
When night approaches the midnight hour,

The tombs compel no restraint and mausoleums

Unlock their doors. For the long-dead would take

Air in their sacred places, bearing no ashen or pallid faces. And How I came to spy this scene, whether

Phantasm or dream I cannot say, but witness I did

This stately promenade in hoop dresses and ringlet tresses.

Where time overlapped time without conflict as they sauntered

To familial places, gazing again on familiar faces.

But then the night did wane, and the church bell began its Sad refrain.

To end, to end their brief respite from their long-ago beginning of eternal night.

And I, Emboldened to beg the favor of one

Who caught my sight, did venture speak to this specter of night.

Dear Madam, if I might before you go but touch your hand and

Confirm if this be dream or no. Dear sir, though I know not why

You view this sight, but what you behold is true, though forbidden

Is a touch from you. But you may visit me at Stone Oak sepulcher

Where my repose is fair, never molested by the cold night air.

Then, as on the horizon rose an amber glow, she, smiling, faded

As melting snow. And I, reclining in that garden of stone, knew

From then I would never be alone.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2170431-Specters-of-Midnight