by Cleo Carelse
Did you ever hear about the howling winds?
Neither have I,
I have only heard tales about it,
On a cold winter’s eve, you can…
Did you hear that?...
Anyways, everyone in town was afraid to see what the howl was about,
But not me, I wanted to see it with my own two eyes what it can be.
They say you can feel the air tense up as it passes by,
One by one it sweeps you away,
Dancing in a trans-like spell to the sounds of the whistling wind through the leaves of the old oak tree;
“Hear the sound that you’ll miss,
Feel the pain it will give.
Futile in your existence,
To be chanting to the midnight moon.
For what you seek is my undying, crying kiss.”
The mist rides like thunder and waves as it drifts in the nigh.
Blowing my curtains up high.
I reach to close the window and see,
A silhouette standing all alone,
Mimicking my every move.
Coming at me like a wolf.
The branches begin scrapping against the glass,
Shadows filling the bedroom floor,
Door screeching, bathroom tap leaking,
Spellbound by the grandfather’s clock ticking down the hallway.
There’s no going back,
And the overwhelming fear prowls over me,
I felt her pain,
I hear her anger.
But I remained fixated on she who was in the dark.
She who calls out my name;
“Hear the sound that you’ll miss,
Feel the pain it will give.
Futile in your existence,
To be chanting to the midnight moon.
For what you seek is my undying, crying kiss.”
When she growled,
It slowly ripped away my tongue,
Speechless it left me.
For when I stared in her eyes on this night,
On this winter’s eve,
I saw my reflection,
The reflection of the howling winds.
Love it !!!!!