Dance with me until the moon hides its face,
And the sun attempts to quicken the pace.
From the sunlight, the vampire turns his face,
And dancers twirl to the light’s frenzied pace.
Run from this place,
From the town of demons,
Walkers of the night.
Palm trees bow to their power.
Sand covers the victims.
Tourists flee the hotel.
The winds howl their name.
The trees of the forest shiver and shake.
Their long limbs tremble from the next quake.
White is the color of my nightgown
As I stand and shiver with a frown.
A shadow emerges from the trees.
I hope it is not him, pretty please.
My body moves forward against my will.
I grab a thick tree and try to hold still.
I dig my feet into the packed snow,
But I must go where the wind might blow.