In silent rooms she listens to the wind

Crawling between limbs

Calling out her name in passion

Far gone from her hearth

No fires lit in years

From the night they first kissed

After the bells tolled of their

Long awaited wedded bliss

She his prize won with promises

Richly written in silver and gold

Fine print detailing the length of

Her stay as one of the many

Other things he collects

Newness worn away once

Her virgin lace had been taken

Just another conquest with a name

Til the stranger rode by

Stopped invited to the table

By her husband as a fellow collector

Of fine things.

They shared stories and wine

Told fortunes under the tick of

A gold watch swinging

From the stranger’s vest pocket

Long hung braided artwork

From Spain swirling in fingertips

Strong hands darkly contrasting

With the nimble hands of her

Accountant husband

Hands used to handling the soft pages

Of bills and a callous creating quill

No real exposure to the elements

No muscle developed in the handling of

Power on four legs

Black as night

Feathered delight

Hard on the body

Hard body

From head to toe

Watch every muscle flow

In his rugged face

This strange face

Haunting her in her dreams

As she watches for him

And turns away

Empty ….

THEN

Scratch upon the glass

Soft at first and then determined

She turns and through the fog

She sees him

His dark green eyes

Glowing

She walks to the window

Opens it wide

Takes the hand he holds out to her

And falls into his arms

Legs wrapping around his waist

She presses against him

Hot cold breath burns her skin

She lays her head to one side

And gives to him the last

Of her virgin skin

The pain of his fangs burning

Deeply in rhythms taking her into

A passion she’d long forgotten

Passion almost completely lost

Until this man

Until this moment

When he freed her soul

By unlocking death’s door.