Distant chimes of Witch Hour
Wakes the troubled mind.
Deafened by nothingness,
Glassy eyes glance wildly

Around the suffocating cave.
The stifling presence of the
Past occupants – centuries old
Staring with cold determined eyes,

As spectres engulf the
Tiny space, drowning
Choking for breath while large
Claws grip and tear, pinning.

'Till the last chime raids the air
A sagging breath, a languid stretch
Before a contented yawn
And then. A sleepy sigh.