knittingknots (knittingknots) wrote,
knittingknots
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Poem 23: Midnight Encounter

I've been looking at fairy lore this morning...this poem's sort of based on an Irish fairy legend, loosely.  Not IK


Midnight Encounter


Her hair was black, O Lord,
her hair was black –
she stood there alone
on a deep forest track.
I stepped on a twig
and she heard it crack;
she turned around,
and I almost went back,
but she smiled and she called me to follow

Her dress was green, O Lord,
her dress was green –
She slipped down the path
like a shadow, unseen.
Her feet were bare
though she walked like a queen –
My mouth grew dry
and my thoughts grew unclean
As she smiled and watched how I followed.


Her lips were red, O Lord,
her lips were red –
she sang a strange song
about a woman long dead
who cried in the midnight –
then she touched my head.
I kissed her lips,
and my senses all fled.
I woke up alone, with no one to follow.


Her skin was so white, O Lord,
her skin was so white –
I cannot forget how
she looked in moonlight,
or the hunger I have
when I stand in the night,
watching for just a glimpse
of her to come in my sight,
where she will smile and ask me to follow.
 
Tags: napowrimo, poem
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