Bat wings, flitting around my soul,
The robe engulfs me, taking control.
Darkness is total, swirling around,
I'm lost to it, seemingly bound.
Most times a tickle, nay a touch to my heart,
Striking me now, making me start!
...to think again, lose myself,
into the blackness, again I must dwelve.
My hearts door is pegged open,
Some part of me, unabaded, keeps hoping.
Take off the mask; let me see the face,
Once again I could be free, not afire in haste.
Was it I that hid her face all this while?
(c)Alan Bailward, 1997