9/14/00 Margaret Newman

Lewis

He walks in the darkness

like a cat

You never knowing exactly

where he's at...

Silent as the hunter,

silent as the grave

His step is light,

his soul depraved.

You want to be his victim,

lay helpless under his touch.

Regrets are worthless,

at him you clutch.

Eyes gleaming, dreaming blue.

Muscles lean, sinewy ripple.

The prey is caught-

he smiles at you.