My footprint formed a shallow bowl
at dead of night,
that trapped the moonlight's lucent soul
of silver bright.
Reflected in the rippled pool
a scythe of death, a dancing jewel
that beckoned like a barrow wight
at dead of night,

and thus the moonlit mirror stole
me from your sight.
I listened to the waves cajole
to seal my plight.
The crescent cut my heart away;
its beauty led my mind astray
in silver shards of fractured light
at dead of night.