The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Fog In The Lane

There was fog in the lane
before the dreams she next recalled
of flights through scarlet skies
a dazzling blonde man at her side

She woke in her bed
So weak she proved too faint to rise
then as that day fled
she swooned once more into the eyes

of that vision of grace
with Dresden curls, jabot of lace
who exuded freedom
as he stroked her hair with his haunting sweetness

They flew through the panes
above the treetops, to the nearest hamlet
where flooded by moonlight,
in frilled nightgown stood a wench by a window.

In rapture they ravished,
her spirit, form; her softness, secrets,
their empty souls' feedings;
shared as their cream hair, red hair mingled.

Now there's fog in the lane …
where she stands in her shroud with her chin stained crimson,
for sister, or brother,
or mother, or neighbour, or you.