My tomb,

My one window crypt.

There, alone,

It protects me,

from the horrors of the world.

I sit and stare.

Out of my one,

Window crypt.

I have seen the sunlight’s rays.

Illuminate the azure sky.

As the white marshmallow,

Clouds drifted by.

I have heard the birds warble,

Their love songs,

As they nestled in their nests.

I have seen the rage of the heavens,

As it turned black as the midnight sky,

And the clouds turned gray.

I felt the Earth tremble,

As lightning streaked the welkin.

I heard the rain beat the roof of my tomb,

Like a hammer smashing a nail in a piece of wood.

I have watched as people strolled by,

Whispering in each other’s ears.

But,

On occasions,

I heard them roar,

And it sent shivers down my spine.

They come from far and near.

To visit loved ones lost.

But, for all the years

I have been in my tomb,

My one window crypt.

No one visited,

Out of love or out of loss.

All I have known

Comes on a fall night.

When the wolf howls

At the fullness of the moon.

When the veil,

Between the worlds,

Is at its thinnest.

It is then, 

And only then,

Visitors come to seek me.

They dare each other,

To peer in my tomb,

My one window crypt.

It is then,

It is there.

I reach out

To say,

“Hello.”

But they stop,

Inches from my window crypt.

I banged and banged.

I waved and waved.

I yelled and yelled.

I watched and watched.

As their blood slowly drained from their faces.

They turn and run.

Leaving me,

Once again,

Alone in my tomb,

My one window crypt.