If moonshadow were following me in the gloom

i dare not think of what doth loom

nor turn my head to see the ghoul

or else my limbs would freeze, and who’ll

be there to aid, to help me flee

the shadows caving in on me

a nightmare I can ne’er escape

one that plays on and on, and scrape

my knee in falling into thorns

moon’s shadow it has now borne

a sinister darker reflection of it

and underneath thee, I do sit

cowering at its murky slime

shuddering in the mist and grime

the shadow reaches out with lies

its gnarled hand touching, blinding eyes

and then alas, it muffles mouth

my screams are mute, north, east and south

I startle then, awake, and spy

my pillow’s the shadow

summer heat is the why

I awoke in a sweat

and did not dream-die.

– Sandra Johnson