'Twas a new moon night, murky and overcast. I laid awake on the bedspread, Oblivious to time. 'Twas perhaps just past the witching hour, perhaps. The lights were out, Giving an inky hue to all that surrounded me. I heard a sound from the doorway, footsteps. With each ticking of the timepiece, they got nearer. With a single glim held firmly, I moved towards the door. I descried a shadow on the floor And then I see the figure, that of a girl. She was younger than I, wore a ivory dress with scarlet stripes. I knew her at first sight, she was me, Me from the foregone. I saw something in her eyes, apart from the redness, A desire, desperate one. A desire to be wanted. I stretched my arm, intending to feel her. But she evanesced and all that surrounded me whirled. I sat upright, drenched in perspiration. I sighed for 'twas a nighmare.
I was gingerly drowning into a slumber
When I heard it, footsteps, real that once.