The trembling maiden fair
Long of limb with flaxen hair
Dances tremulously through the trees
Her steps light and soft as breeze
Nightmares she doesn't know
In this place where flowers grow
Sky is the limit in her dreams
Where nothing is quite as it seems
Fathomless eyes follow her face
Darkness stalks with predatory grace
She dances on, ignorant to intentions
Though its wicked claws glint, no pretensions
Screams swallowed, piercing and quick
Bright flame snuffed from a mortal wick
Dewy petals adorned in crimson rain
As our lady falls, breath suffused with pain
Graceful the prey, even in death
Helpless as it feasts till nothing is left
Blue eyes fading to the smack of lips
Sunlight dying beneath eternal eclipse

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Lupar, in the year 582 AF.