In the still of the night
Breathless, pounding heart;
How close will he come The deed to be done?
How close will he come The deed to be done?
Shivering, stilled in the
gloom,
gloom,
Clouds skittering past a
silver moon;
A hoot, a toot, a flap of
wings Who
is it who wears glittering rings?
is it who wears glittering rings?
A snowy owl, swooping
past; No moon to light his path
Hear footsteps on
flagstones; As moonbeams dance
on gravestones!
on gravestones!
Shadows darting here and
there Please, please, don't get tangled
in my hair
in my hair
See his breath now on
frosting air Sparkle in eyes, scintillating
hair
hair
He has but a short while,
to quaff from the longed for vile
Soon to be heard a
sprightly lark; He must then dash away to the dark
The kiss,
the hunger, the hold; No escape from one so bold
the hunger, the hold; No escape from one so bold
Agony and ecstasy of
ill-timed
bliss; Power of attraction no dismiss
bliss; Power of attraction no dismiss
He always returns, driven
by lust; Life's potent wine the inner must
A wanton smile, His token
of trust and guile; But, how much, how much, will he want of the blooded
nile?
It is the moment it is the
time
The crossing of ever lasting line;
The crossing of ever lasting line;
No escape from the dream;
See the mystical catlike gleam
Too late, too late; He's
opened his blood-lined cape;
Oh Mystical phantom of
sensual nights Drifting, drifting in ecstasy
This is the way, the way it
was meant to be!
copyright Francine Howarth.
copyright Francine Howarth.
