It was an odd noise that I heard, this night: Not quite a scream, but far more than a gasp, From moonless darkness, with no stars in sight. What is this coldness, that my insides clasp? Why do I weaken, hearing sound so far Only the echo reaches ear, yet mind Is twisted from intent? How can I bar Gate of imagination to wyrd bind? I fall, boneless with fright, and sweat breaks out; Bowels turn to water with despair. I weep, To lose all. I moan, but cannot give shout To more than whimper, nor my reason keep. She passes, and I live! Yet dare not rise For fear of seeing Death within her eyes.