Staring out to the sea
with the wind caressing her hair,
she watches the sun settling
back to its warm cozy bed.
The coming of the night
stirred no dread in her heart,
even when houses start to bar
their windows and their doors.
Creeping from the cracks from the pavements,
and crevices from tattered walls,
the shadows come riding the
screeching sound of the furious wind,
that picks up fallen leaves, sticks and stones,
hurling them at silent houses making noise.
Shadows that hunt for spaces in between
and souls from within,
hungry for life that was taken from them
And by the rocky shores of the sea,
as the shadows gallop and caper all night,
she stands still with a sinister smile
playing on her lips.
-The Elusive Scribe 041913-