She walks barefoot
down a dirt path.
Slow, ponderous strides,
draped in black velvet.
A sliver of the moon hangs in the air,
towering over a copse of tall,
ancient trees. 
She walks barefoot
to the edge of a graveyard.
Slow, ponderous strides,
the mistress in black velvet.
The bite of midnight,
autumn air dancing through the trees.
Singing a haunted tune,
mistress of the night.