tagNonHumanHalloween Bill

Halloween Bill

bychampagne1982©

She sits in a garden
On a cold autumn night,
The flowers surrounding her
An eerie sight.
Poppies and roses
Gleam starkly white,
While glistening angels
On marble wings take flight.
She's there in the full of the moon.

The blossoms mark
The homes of the dead,
Where remnants of lives
Lie in a dark bed.
Cold stone and damp earth
Here all life has fled,
She seems to wait eagerly,
Without any dread.
She's there in the full of the moon.

She waits for her lover
Named Halloween Bill,
He comes here to find her
Answering her will.
His own needs denied,
Her desires he'll fulfill,
For he loves her yet
And she loves him still.
She's there in the full of the moon.

They mark each year
Remembering the start
That bound them together,
Mating each heart,
One to the other,
Ne'er sundering apart.
A scar they both bear
From Cupid's dart.
She's there in the full of the moon.

Restless she paces,
Her skirts wave to and fro,
She hates how he keeps her
Wanting him so.
He's never early to come here,
Nor late to go.
Trapped by the moonlight
As night winds, they blow.
She's there in the full of the moon.

At last he appears, breathless,
She regards his dear face.
His smile and delight
Makes her heartbeat race.
Weakly she falls into
His loving embrace.
The curve of his lips
Shaking fingers trace.
She's there in the full of the moon.

In moments they tear
At time's heartless shroud.
Returning to days when
They stood tall and proud.
Mem'ries awaken,
Their love spoken aloud.
Two souls soar like eagles
Through midnight cloud.
She's there in the full of the moon.

A prayer God has answered,
Heart's wishes come true.
Two lovers together
With their hours, too few.
They share fevered kisses
Like newlyweds do,
Their time measured in moments
That go with the dew.
She's there in the full of the moon.

She takes his hand with hers
To rest on her breast.
She wants him and needs him
Suckling the sweet crest.
Midst the ruffles and satins
Of her feminine nest,
The pink rose of her nipple,
On his lips leaves him blest.
She's there in the full of the moon.

The sighs that they heard,
The breath of the wind?
The teeth felt on skin,
The bite death's mask grinned?
The lust that they'd thought
Was it truly one sinned?
The magic of midnight
Keeps them to the earth pinned.
She's there in the full of the moon.

His fingers lift skirts,
Layers of satin and lace.
Between her smooth thighs,
He finds solace and grace.
Her body surrounds him.
His need sets a new pace,
In the depths of his passion
His despair, she'll erase.
She's there in the full of the moon.

With her arms she surrounds
This warm-blooded being.
With her murmured approval,
Their kisses agreeing.
He's answered her call.
Their realities fleeing
Away in the night,
Only night owls seeing.
She's there in the full of the moon.

Closer to her he moves,
Almost begging to enter,
The well of her passion,
Her hot, liquid center.
At last he's within,
Her womb's lustful mentor!
She writhes there, impaled,
On her beloved tormentor.
She's there in the full of the moon.

She trembles against him.
Her body shakes.
His adoration upon her,
She gladly takes.
All the emotion he gives her,
All the love that he makes,
Each autumn this visit,
For both of their sakes.
She's there in the full of the moon.

He spends his wet heat,
A relentless tide,
Of life's essence and power
And elation, inside
His beloved mystery,
His unearthly guide,
The incorporeal spirit,
Of his dead, blushing bride.
She's there in the full of the moon.

He stays there a moment
Against the cold stone,
Where each autumn he mourns her,
Bereft and alone.
He shrugs off his tears
And suppresses a moan.
'Twas good she died young
Ne'er to be an old crone.
She's there in the full of the moon.

He stands and he turns,
Reluctant to go,
Sad to leave her alone,
To face winter's snow.
He bends down on one knee,
'Tis All Saint's, you know?
To place a wreath of remembrance,
His love, the world show.
She's there in the full of the moon.

The children all call him
Halloween Bill.
He exits the graveyard
After drinking his fill
Of port wine and whiskey,
A drunkard's cheap swill,
On the morning of All Saint's.
He won't come here again, until,
She's there in the full of the moon.

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