Standing, quietly, at the bottom of the stairs

No one ever seems to notice her there

Dress, stained with red, tells of her plight

How she had vanished, that Halloween night

No one came looking, for fear they would find

A sorceress, like her, unsettled in mind

Never was welcomed, as one of the folk

Evidenced now, by the blood on her cloak

But she knew much better, revenge in her sight

Luring them closer, with the glow of a light

Into the vastness, they’d soon disappear

Lost to mortality, imprisoned, in her sphere

 

©2019 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo: Pixabay