The curfew bell rang out its lonely call.
The world fell fast asleep at close of day
And as the shades of night began to fall
Some ancient phantoms ushered out to play.


The maid looked through the window of her house
The house in which her parents lay asleep
So quiet she, and timid as a mouse
Until she heard the restless spirits weep.




“Come play with us, my dear, the time is now,
The hustle of the day has long since passed.
What sorrow leaves its stain upon your brow
No earthly love was ever meant to last.


Now Passion dies and love has grown cold.
There is no comfort in the crying game
Why wait until your heart is sick and old
And time has stamped its mark upon your frame”




Her face turned white, a deathly shade of pale.
A manic gleam developed in her eye;
Responding to the spirits’ plaintive wail
Her throat closed in the essence of a sigh


She left the comfort of her feather bed
The spectral throng drew round in high delight
With morning light her soul had long since fled.
Abandoned to the shadows of the night.

 



© By Thomas Vaughan Jones (TVaughanJones@aol.com)


 

 



Watch these pages for more poems by Tom.
In the meantime, click the links below for other poems and stories by the authors at Lara's Den.


A Caress

Lovers Lullaby

Sunrise, Sunset

The Straw Hat

On Meeting Someone New

April In Paris

By The Mighty Mississippi

Reach For The Stars


And.......for many others, click the index image.



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