Ode to the Supernatural

Vampiric tendencies in the night.
Black wings do take to flight.

With twitch of nose,
And flick of tail,
Almost every night,
Comes wolf without fail.

The eerie wail,
Of an entity long expired.
An ethereal form,
Floating along the mire.

Strange bodies,
Passing in the night.
Neither are they dead,
Nor are they in life.

Human minds begin to wonder,
Wondering why it isn't still asunder.

Copyright Eric Stryker 1988, 2001