The lurking in the dark

Idle hands the watchman grows when hours long and fragile spread. 

Fair the maiden sleeps in sweet repose while dreaming of the dead

and darkly shadows within the wood grow with weight like lead. 

Long the hours beneath the silvered moon languish in the night 

where even bear and owl do shiver in their fright

of things that creep and slink and slither away from light. 

Dare the darkness before the dawn and forfeit safety's grace

and face the horrors of the shade that doesn't wear a face

and never again feel the sun or warmth of love's embrace.