GOTHIC DREAMS:

As I slept, dipped & slipped into dreamful sleep,

As I dropped & I dawdled into Morpheus deep,

I traipsed through the night of a million moons,

Garbed in feathered robes of ravens soft plumes.

 As I amble past tombs of those now long gone,

I hear on the breeze, the Goddesses’ lost song,

The soft wailing of wolves & Pan on horned pipe,

In the silence of night, the quince falls heavily ripe.

I hear the rustle of old leaves in cold autumn breeze,

I see blood-red eyes of bats in the skeleton of trees,

I wend through the cemetery to church in the woods,

Where monks on their knees are chanting in hoods.

A shriek, a shiver & a tremble, cold fingers grip tight,

I whirl around in circles, searching day´s peeping light,

And as I turn corners, I hear the blood-curdling scream,

A finger-tip of daylight & I return from dark Gothic dream.