Campfire Tales

The moon is red this night,
an evil omen still,
as in the olden days I lived
when omens bid us ill.

These days no powers do reside
on lofty lawn or hill,
that move about unseen to us
and in the moment thrill.

Why is it then, when darkness comes,
we seek that fabled story,
that myth of horror, ghost or tale,
which gives the monster glory?

Such fascination leads us hence,
back unto the dark,
as we, the hunted children seek
to keep alive some spark.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s