In a graveyard surrounded by high stone wall,
Stood a hulking and dark very old oak tree,
With branches reaching up near fifty feet tall,
In moonlight it appears to offer a plea.
On breezy fall nights its fallen leaves swirl round,
In vortices that dance over all the graves,
When winds gust with force there is a howling sound,
That echoes amongst headstones and walls in waves.
In the corner is a crypt where nightshade wraps,
Creeping down stairs harshly neglected by time,
Far below behind granite door something taps,
Crying like a banshee in darkness and grime.
On the vault door is a neatly chiseled verse,
Poignant final words but damning however,
“For adulterous ways oh woman, I curse
And lock you alive in darkness forever.”
Michael J. Donnelly©201