When misted twilight shifts to midnight black,
then I drift, but hear her mournful sighing
outside the window, crying, “bring me back”–-
whispers first, but then intensifying.
Why does she with grief-filled moans so haunt me?
What soul-stricken sprite struggles at moon nights,
flickering at a flame–moth-winged banshee–
fleeing at dawn, in sunshine’s gilding light?
And yet–-her shadowed-face, ghostly image
appears each night, (bewitching) she calls me–
I rise, unsure, do I smile or grimace?
Two here on different planes, one not yet free.
So, I know now when next she comes again
the light will fade for me–not why, but when.
This is for dVerse, where Sanaa is asking us to write Gothic-themed poems. It’s my birthday, so this will be fun reading. 😀 I’ve re-worked this sonnet that I wrote for another dVerse prompt about a year ago.