(My sister, Lil’ Red Riding Hood,2nd from left. That’s me, far right, a Spanish dancer in Daytona Beach, Fla about 1942. Count Dracula movies were popular at the time.
Dark memories still conjure in my sight
when Dracula’s gray coffin does appear.
I see the crash of bats in wing’ed flight
I hear the hinges creak upon his bier.
On many barren nights since first I saw
the Count, wherein his lady, casket bound
is tortured by the constant drip. That raw
blood-curdling drip, drip, dripping horrid sound.
And marvelous, the blue hues of that scene
with pale reflections from her maddened eyes,
she breaks from out her coffin; horrid, mean,
and runs to grab the Count who is surprised.
On many churlish nights since childhood days
I’m still afraid to sleep without light’s blaze.