Contributor: Paul Tristram

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Here she comes now
down, down like the rain.
Here she comes now
irresistible yet insane.

The humming whisper pulled up
right up to the curb side.
Out stepped the last of many,
the last of the many before me.
She slithered up, out and kissed,
kissed him into blue ashes,
blew him westwardly, easily.
His hat rolled down the street
searching for a new owner
but found nothing but more road.
She beckoned, I followed
like a crazy human echo,
unchained physically, yet
gripped heart and soul.
I stumbled, yeah that’s right
I can’t even get that right,
me the imperfect echo.
Upon reaching the door
she turned like something,
like something moving within me.
She smiled softly a ballad
then bid me do enter,
so I did, stumbling again.
But as I hit the floor
two of her many pets
grabbed each of my arms.
They dragged me up the stairs,
along a corridor of crystal
and into a bedroom of crimson.
I have now been chained here
yes, here to this bedside
for the last three weeks.
I’ve been peeled by sweat
from the neck to the toes.
Her pets are around me,
I hear the humming whisper,
it approaches and waits outside.
We silently await her return,
she’s out alone, scouring the night
in search of the next one.
Soon she will return afresh,
flushed with new expectancy.
Together we will walk down,
down that dark path of pine.
No more merely an echo
for I have proved something.
I know not what but something
Ah, but wait, I hear her now.

Here she comes now
down, down like the rain.
Here she comes now
irresistible yet insane.


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Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.