A Poem…

Hazy, twisted shades of grey,

Rain drizzles down from above,

Like crooked, bony fingers tapping against my skin.

I look out over the slabs of stone,

As the wind begins to tousle my hair,

I feel a presence other than my own.

The cemetery is awash in silence,

Save for the rain and the wind,

And the slow release of my bated breath.

A dark figure looms in the distance,

But it seems to be moving closer,

At a quickened pace that causes me some alarm.

No features appear as it moves closer,

It remains dark and mysterious,

Making no sound as it glides along the ground.

The dark figure is upon me now,

I close my eyes and feel nothing,

I open them to see I am again alone.

No figure stands before me nor behind,

No sound except the rain and the wind,

And my now gasping breath.

I turn to leave the cemetery,

And meet the empty gaze of the dark one.