Moonlight Serenade Poem by Jeri Fittler

Walking my way through gardens of flowers
on a trail leading east that took path by the towers
that held the forgotten, the broken of grave,
with the whines of the woods in moonlight serenade.

The stench of old death holding tight to the fog
and whispers of hunt carry deep from the bog
that shadowed as life on the loose, needing rest,
while the 'eve gave no peace to the slaved and possessed.

Peering from corners so darkened it's blue
when light breaks the branches and the moon touches through,
reflects of the shadows, so perched in the night,
of voices that's trapped by the touch of moonlight.

Soft rapid steps to stay front the lost screams
that followed and lead, trapped in the moon's beam
and the night crawled beside me, the winds can't behave,
with the whines of the woods in moonlight serenade.

Held by the light but I still feel the teeth
and I see the hunger that craves from beneath
of what's just alive and what's just ahead
the hands of the depths, on the touch of the dead.

Run as I may as to get past these towers
and nearing the gate that is framed in the flowers
with the cries of the souless now faint in the wind
the stone that I walk disappear once again.

All had gone quiet, I turn as to see
the gardens of flowers that stood behind me
with a glisten so bright as I went on my way
with the whines of the woods in moonlight serenade.