Chilling Tales

The Edge of Night

a dark horror poem

by Bobette Bryan

There’s a channel between us.
When the moon shines bright,
I can hear your footsteps
On the edge of night.
When you’re near it seems like time
Has fallen deathly still,
Your shadow dancing on the wall,
Arriving with a chill.
And I know you’re ever wandering,
A twilight place you roam,
Your spirit merely brushing
The place you once called home.
Sometimes in the night,
I can hear you sigh,
Or sense the plaintive echo
Of your lost soul’s cry.
Your spirit is familiar;
I’ve come to know you well
Within these faded walls
Where you used to dwell.
And even though I feel a chill
When you pass my way,
I’d be quite content
If you’d like to stay.

© 2004 Bobette Bryan