Adventure

Vagabonds traveling,
Shadowy and cold,
Voices, thick with the accent
Of a night’s revelry.

What strange crew is this?
A rabble cast in moonlight bathing,
Strange and wonderful.

The words were foreign,
But the laughter
Spoke of dark and bitter liquids,
And appetites better left unspoken.

I stood there watching,
Perched upon the window,
Like a raven, in gloom,
Eyes burrowing, deeper.

My mind burned with visions,
Adventures of pilfering,
Drunken routing and riots,
And salted, taste of blood.

Then, as if he tasted my potion,
A larger, man gazed up,
With eyes an eerie green,
And smiled, gnarly and gaping.

A raspy sound fell from his lips,
And I sat back, exposed,
Afraid to hear the footsteps
Outside of my door.

But alas, the sound was lost
Like the visitors, in darkness.
And I was left to finish
The adventure alone.

(c) 2006 Steve Johnston