Vengeance

On frigid nights along the moonlit way
when the trees have a propensity to sway
their dreadful crooked branches shaking
comes the vengeful mistress bent on slaking
a thirst to find her deceitful paramour
who once threw her with abrupt clamor
down a ravine for refusing to bend
to his wish of their relationship to rend
and return to his wife who knew naught
but bludgeoned him to death when caught;
Finding his headstone, the spectre cackles
sounding of a chattering, ill-omened grackle.

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