The Magic Loom

Too late he slept, the night had fled
As windows turned to gray
And wind-borne ghosts circled his bed
While wolves began their play
They mocked him softly all the while
He moved, but did not wake
Dark shadows swam with glinting smile
Upon the darkened lake
Fierce riders thundered with a scream
As phantoms filled the room
And sly hags wove the nightly dream
Upon the magic loom