Once upon a moonlit eve, I lay awake in bed, bereaved For the death of my beloved work, a treasured lore A story once created to settle a score but whose nature was to remain so simple nevermore But soon there came a whisper and a sort of rapping An insistent tapping upon my chamber door “Someone must have come” I murmured, rising to stand upon the floor I stood, of course as I mentioned and began to open the chamber door Though my mind was hung in a sort of contention You see my attention Was torn As it often was in those days between living and being forlorn Nevertheless, I pried open the door and stared straight into the face of my old score She was a specter of guile With the same cunning smile that haunted the pages of my treasured lore Aghast, I flung the door shut No, but that is what I had wished occurred deep in my gut Instead, I fixed a pleasant expression and extended a hand, “It’s wonderful to see you. Do come in Lenore.”