The sins of night can shroud the world in hate
And cloak dark shadows with their hideous power;
And snakes and sightless vermin animate
And wait the coming of the witching hour;
And you in webs of lace lie on your bed,
And paint each silver nail a sanguine hue;
And cloying perfume clouds your pretty head,
And crimson lips now hum a common tune;
And when the time is right you face the mirror,
Reviving wilting colors of your youth—
The gargoyle princess thus can reappear
Avowing the stark reflection of your truth;
And though you smile and flaunt the devil’s guise—
The sorrow in your eye can tell no lies.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.