Today, I wanted to share with you one of my Horror Made original poems:

Horror Made Original artwork: The Weaver’s Last

Strands of Moonlight

Hanging in the corner of the dusty window

you can find

hidden in the shadows

a weaver so clever and so talented

that she can take the moonlight

and spin it’s soft silver into string.

A string so light

that if it were to touch your skin

you would feel only a thin caress

of coolness prickling the nerves

as it brushes by.

This weaver of wonder

it nearing her end.

She has changed her patterns of moonlight

from listing dreams

to a swaying bed

ready for her eternal sleep.

So enjoy,

for perhaps the last time,

the strands of spun moonlight

drifting in the dark.

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