The Poetess...The Woods...The Mist Pt 2 Poem by David Whalen

The poet looked all about her,
in the moon glow so dim
Felt a slight tug…
as something pulled her… further within

First, , , hesitant steps…
with a look oe’r her shoulder
Back at the house
with it’s lights slowly dimming

The tenous pull
on her hands growing bolder
Her eyes torn away,
in tears… deeply brimming

Sepulchral black limbs
Spider close overhead
Vision shimmers and swims
In fear… and in dread

Is this poetic justice?
And if so…for what deed?
Was she being taken in malice
The pull Quickened…paying no heed!

faint, distant voices, calling her name
Made her try to stop…made her resist
But the unseen fantasm, tugged all the same
And pulled the Poet, yet deeper into the mist