She bore the sweetest lips I'd seen
and eyes of winter fire
her beauty lived within her grace
her soul lived in the mire.

She moved as winter strips the trees
with slow yet bold intent
and in her hands the hearts of men
were torn and truly spent.

She lay down where the nightshade grew
at many souls' behest
she took their love and lives the same
then laid her head to rest.

On summers nights I hear her call
a coldness at its depth
it wills me on to take my place
within the arms of death.