The Presence

He had always hated,

The call of the dark,

A wind howled through the trees,

He heard wild dogs bark.

But ‘twas not just the hounds,

Nor the wilderness alone,

That stirred his sentiments, alas,

It was the hidden and unknown.

The cloak of darkness only,

Made his anguish further grow,

For strange was the presence,

That the elusive did sew.

On nights just like these,

Under the full and beckoning moon,

He could feel something evil,

Envelope light within its cocoon.

A sense of desperation,

Hung thickly in the air,

He could sense that tonight,

The beast would leave its’ lair.

Then he caught his reflection,

In the window pane,

He could see it in his own eyes,

That soon, he would feed again…