Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Song of the Dead

I hear sweet singing outside my window.
Honeyed voices tempt me into the dark,
Draw me away from my lonely abode,
Fog my troubled mind with seductive lies,
And entice my weak flesh with sinful thoughts.

I hear wistful singing beneath the moon.
Enchanted by their ethereal song,
Ensnared in a web of hypnotic words,
I draw near strange damsels forever young
And dare not resist their alluring call.

I hear eerie singing upon the heath
As veiled spectres dance atop weathered hills.
Unearthly sprites toss back their tattered shrouds,
While a forbidden caress steals my heart
And sweetly poisoned lips corrupt my soul.

I hear fell singing as wicked wights whirl
Wildly 'round my fatally stricken form.
Trembling fear gives way to dull senselessness
When this wretched mortal shell turns to dust
And the restless dead claim me as their own.

(Originally published in Sounds of the Night, Issue 8, February 2011.)

Copyright © 2011 Richard H. Fay

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