In the Shadows of the Lane

Do not tarry in the lane,

After sunset stains the sky,

When dead branches weave and writhe

As daylight finally dies

Do not tarry in the lane,

It’s not safe there after dark,

Rumours tell of grasping hands,

And something with skin like bark

Do not tarry in the lane,

When shadows spider the stones,

For stray moonlight might unveil

A thin horror, pale as bones.

Painting - Tree Shadows on the Park Wall. Roundhay Park, Leeds by John Atkinson Grimshaw

Verse by Jim Moon

Find more writing and  podcasts on the weird and wonderful here -

HYPNOGORIA HOME DOMAIN