I walk quickly this night
from those who lurk from sight.
The wind gives a whistle, a sigh,
as the strands of my hair lift high.
The moon hides its face.
I quicken my pace.
Shadows surround me.
Footsteps behind me.
Hands circle my neck.
Is that a love peck?
He takes my blood.
I fall in a red flood.
Will I belong to him?
He watches with a grin.
I’ve become a nightwalker,
a present from my stalker.
PREY FOR THE DEAD by Susanne Leist
