The night is hauntingly still as the moon,
Forms shadows, casting it’s eerie light,
Into the murkey depths of the lagoon.
This thing, searching for all hope to blight.

Woosh! It swoops silently down upon you,
Like an eagle hoaning in on it’s prey.
Ravishing the imagination, it confounds you,
And taunts you until the light of day.

Wrapping you in it’s spine tingling embrace,
The silent feet of death lurking near,
Struggling you try desperately to efface,
This strange, overpowering thing, called fear!

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