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Spawn of the Moon
The night wind howls through the bare trees;
A cold chill in the November air makes me feel alive.
I am standing on a high rock looking down into the valley;
Gazing deeply into the moon, desiring her comfort.
The sadness of loneliness echoes in my withered old soul;
Forlornly I howl, you hear my soulful call in the night.
Drawn to the window, looking into the full moon's brightness;
You hear the sound of my bay, a tingling lives in your spine.
Fear surrounds you as you see my silhouette in the distance;
Slamming shut the window, pulling the curtains, latching the lock.
Loathing the desire that is stirred inside your soul;
After all, you are the lady of the manor; respected, proper.
A longing aches deep in your loins for the spawn of the moon;
As I look down from the rock into your darkened window.
I howl once more, from the depths of my soul for you;
You hear me, and stand before the window once again.
Opening the window and looking into the moon's shadows;
Scanning the rocks, desiring to look at me once again.
A hunger has you thinking thoughts that no lady should think;
Leaning out into the cold wind, feeling the raw power of nature.
I see you, my lust for you is insatiable, running to your window
Through the shadows, quietly coming closer, smelling your desire.
I howl softly only a ten feet away, then step into the light of the moon.
I stand before you on my haunches, your beast of the darkness;
You look on my furry face with passion, I am the spawn of the moon.
12Nov09
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