Slinking down Midnight Street

The moon is high, the air tastes sweet

A deafening silence calls my name

Enticing me to play its game

One foot in front of the other

Soon I’m greeted by another

An apparition – perhaps a shadow

Standing alone, its head hung low

An ominous smirk from ear to ear

Makes my blood run cold with fear

Boney fingers, a relentless grasp

Traps me in a deceptive clasp