“Miss Alexandra”



As the wind blew the curtains a sway,



Miss Alexandra passed away.



The eye of heaven so radiantly shined on her lonely tomb,



Throngs of mourners, weeping, stood above her black casket, murmuring distant memories,



And as the sun grew tired, it cast a dying shadow upon her somber throne.



Then night crept up the fog of the land,



Silently weeping,



Ever so softly, 



Over the dark night it was creeping.



Alone and encased in death's eternal shade,



Miss Alexandra rose from her grave.



Her chambers so dearly missed her,



And she heard it's silent cry,



As she drifted into her room,



Her dolls, flowers, and clocks abloom,



Left untouched by nothing but dust



Since she fell in her tomb.



There she stayed until midnight,



Laughing merrily in all her mirth



Till a servant boy down the hall thought he heard—



Miss Alexandra, the fairest maiden his eyes ever rested upon.



“Nonsense!” said he, “Surely she is dead.”



But out of curiosity—



Oh, just a peek!



And he saw the glimmering tendrils



Of a goddess-like woman with pink about her cheeks,



A shining pair of feline green eyes, a white gown, and a pair of white shoes on her feet.



Her dead gaze casted upon him,



And he screamed in fright, fleeing down her lonely hall,



Overtaken by the sight. 



She giggled a ghostly whisper that slithered down the halls,



And haunted the decaying matter of the empty walls.



She returned to her tea, staring into the deep abyss,



And who was the dame in the reflection?



It was she.



Miss Alexandra had passed away,



Surely it was true!



But why did he see this phantom beauty standing before the orb of the moon?



He dismissed his not so sane notions,



Berating himself for believing,



That Miss Alexandra was not really in her tomb sleeping. 



The End