Rolling fogs of frosted dew Diffuse the light of winter's Moon A creature lurks inside the tomb With bated breath, awaits the gloom. It's eyes aglow; it's teeth, so sharp A subtle movement; a distant bark A growing shadow; a calling lark The silent beat of a blackened heart. The indigo night; a starlit shroud An ashen pelt; a hungry growl Prowling death; a bone-deep howl Fear-chilled beads upon a brow. An apex hunter; lord of night Tracks its prey with unnatural sight The rush of blood; the killing bite Its only bane; the silver blight.
R.J. Ren 