Obsidian water reflects sad moon
The man on face appears to be crying
Sand and saw grass the lone wail of a loon
Lucidity slipping…no denying
Onyx polished aqua lies still before me
Glimmering, glistening, liquid graveyard
Ripple develops ‘neath aged oak tree
It’s moving toward me, ‘t is not a canard
Flapping, loud flapping, close wings of the owl
Startled, I cry out “God take me from here”
Water now parting, ‘t is something most foul
My heart pumps the sanguine essence of fear
Suspended by terror, I hold fast to shore
Emerging cadaverous…cold Lenore
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