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Apr 2014
Up on a hill, I saw a light
In bitter cold December gloom
On frozen roads of windy night
Past avenues of graves and tombs.

I carefully walked, strickened with dread
On rocky paths of ancient years
To byways of the lonely dead
Where midst the trees, they shed their tears.

The winding trail, it took me high
Toward Moose Hill’s haunted mystery
I heard a woman’s eerie cry
That like thin smoke, flowed down to me.

In misty dark, I made my way
And came upon a thorny hedge
On broken paths, as clear as day,
A stone house on a craggy ledge.

She smiled at me beside her door
With sparkling eyes and scarlet hair
A face that made my fires roar
Voluptuous beyond compare.

She bade me then to come inside
And through that door, I quickly raced
White candles glowed on every side
As flames danced in her fireplace.

This spectral siren of the night
Right next to me, her body ******
So mesmerizing with delight
It stirred those burning flames of lust.

The fire in her eyes, it gleamed
We kissed and then she gently spoke
But disappeared, twas just a dream
And in my bedroom, I awoke.

Next morn, I climbed that steep terrain
In hope I'd find her by her door
A pile of rocks, all that remained
Of some old house from years before.

A weathered gravestone stood nearby
I walked to it and then I saw
An epitaph from years gone by
Its worn words shook me to the core:

"In life, they called me Lizabeth
For years lived on that ledge above
Though turned to dust, conquered by death
My spirit lingers here for love".
This poem is based on a vision I had while walking by an old cemetery in my hometown.
Night Flyer
Written by
Night Flyer  Sharon, MA
(Sharon, MA)   
   Mary Elizabeth
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