Wolfsbane and the LikeThe night was cold, the cold wind blewMore Like This
Around the chimney, and down the flue
Into a room so deathly still
That nothing moved to disturb the chill
Upon the moor, a silver mist
Teased the bog with it's tender kiss.
It moaned in the eaves, it sniffed at the door,
It whistled through all the cracks in the floor,
It drifted with tendrils of the cold, cold mist
As the glowing coals in the fireplace hissed,
And it lifted the covers and ruffled the hair
Of the silent people sleeping there.
The mist rose up and began to change
To a figure dark and passing strange
That, shadowed, stood at the head of the bed
Then silently bent and tenderly fed
On the rich life's blood of his sleeping prey.
Then, sated, the vampire faded away.
Glutted and full from his night's repast
He was free to return to his rest at last.
So he changed his form into that of a bat
And flapped all the way to his home like that.
He felt strangely heavy, it began to rain,
And his stomach developed a nauseous pain.
By the time he