Her hourglass looks empty Mr Poe.

Through her eyes

to the soul

the hourglass

looks empty

as stories of fear move

amongst shadows of horror.

Yesterday their footsteps

quietly stir the moon's awakening

in a tide of shivers

off mind's skeletal coast.

A pulse beats rhythmically,

in the distance

an echo screams

from the dark side

cursed curiosities

real and imagined.