Girls, never meet your boyfriends in a graveyard at moonrise. Unless, of 
course, you happen to live there...

------

	Moonrise

Harken tither, the Nightingale's Song,
But freshly from this earthly bird sprang.
Listen, how she softly sings
The Sun to other pastures green.

	And all the Creatures of the Night
	Scurry forth in sheer delight.

The moon doth rise to take her place,
'n Bathes all in silver serenade grace.
Silver trees and silver stones,
Silver gates hide lovers lone.

	Yesterday I saw your face
	Tonight I lounge in your embrace.

The love-birds cornered, terrified,
Guide me through my sacrifice.
Point out where my fangs should sink,
Gently bide me deeply drink.

	Drunk in eternal moonlight bliss,
	Come live the strange joys
	Of a Vampyre's kiss.

				~<songshadow@hotmail.com>