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.”