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.




Watch these pages for more poems by Tom.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.

The Italian Count

Burt Yakomoto

Blood Oaths

Death in the Moonlight

Crop Circles

The Candlestick Holders

The Stained Glass Window

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

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