Samhain’s Eve
The Witching hour approaches near,
The flickered light does soon deceive,
The restless peace that echoes in
This soft disquiet of Samhain’s Eve.
The Winter’s reign looms cold and harsh,
And even now the leaves do die.
For even now leaves of spring
Fall circle, circle from the sky.
A time of death with doubt in mind,
Forbidden thoughts whisper and stray.
Outside leaves dance and scatter in
Remembrance of mortality.
Countless creatures cower from
The darkness dropping swiftly in.
What comfort can there ever be
For those who’ve never heard of spring?
The shadows lurk beyond my gaze,
Awaiting �?waiting �?nothing breathes.
Uncertain what this spell has wrought
In soft disquiet on Samhain’s Eve.
Merlin
(October 1995)
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