by Nick Gisburne
Before the sunlight sweeps across the sky,
Before the birds bring sweetness with their song,
The Daughters of the Darkness flit and fly,
For night is where their spiteful shades are strong.
The reckless and the wretched are their prey,
The wanderers too far from any inn,
The pilgrims lost or left along the way,
Who plead, in vain, for morning to begin.
A scream, a signal, flies from lip to lip.
A slithering of spirits fills the trees.
To feed, to feast, the Daughters slide and slip.
The fools, the fallen, cower on their knees.
Too slow to find the safety of the light,
Their souls descend to Darkness, with a bite.
