A pitch black night that shrouded the Moon
In gloomy clouds veiling her pallid face
Threw upon a lonely old house
Standing apart in a dead-end alley
A mourning cloak of black enshrouding
Her imposing presence from prying eyes,
And her windows stood dark holding in secret
Counsels of intrigue passing within.
Copyright © 1999, Robert Kauffmann. All Rights
Reserved.