Death in the Moonlight

by Cleveland W. Gibson

As moonlight falls upon the castle walls and when the weak must seek some peace in prayer, only then the Lady in White will walk quite beautifully tonight.

See her calm, her face so fair as the wind ruffles softly, surreally and the moonlight shines upon her hair. But grasp the majestic nature of what you see, for there beneath the proud chin shows only air; gone, cut away, the wretched body full of despair.

So now she walks at midnight to the clock tower chime, it's on me I see she casts a spell so tender and divine. Those others like me who see her often cry perhaps talk of her and how she came to die.

No simple plot of love gone wrong or bittersweet the sound of song, rather think of crime and wine, and there in perfect moonlight where she walked for the last time.

Close she comes to pass me by, chilling me again as I hear her anguished sigh. “Moonlight, oh, Moonlight, must it always be? Wait my lover, my child, my dear. Halt the dagger. First, kiss me. Kiss me.“