The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The path is wrapped in quiet fog,
like breath against a windowpane.
A full moon hums a lullaby
over moss and silver rain.
Lantern light sways warm and low,
but I hardly need its glow
the forest knows my gentle steps,
and lets its shadows slow.
Fern tips bow with beaded dew,
crickets stitch the dark with song.
The night smells sweet of dampened leaves,
where I have always belonged.
Fog curls kindly at my ankles,
not to hide, but softly keep.
The moon pours milk into the trees,
and rocks drift half asleep.
This is not a place of fear,
but hearth and hush and bone-deep calm
a cottage made of roots and stars,
held together by old charm.
I walk home with the forest breathing,
moonlight folded in my shawl.
The night knows me, names me gently,
and does not ask me to be small.