The Vampires Poem

I listen to the delicate sound of the clock I watch the hands manoeuvre around... tick... tock, I count down the minuets there is till midnight, I make sure the moon is the only light, My time has approached, its 12 o clock now I need to get up the stairs but I wonder how, So I start to creep out from under my den, I have to taste the drops of red again, I tiptoe up the stairs silent and stealthy, I smell for my victim, with blood so healthy, I see her, sleeping, lying there, I stand by her bedside, and brush aside her hair, She is strikingly beautiful, so lovely and fair, Then I see her neck, and stop and stair, I gently slide my fangs across her neck, Trying not to break the skin, at least not yet, Savouring the moment of her dreamy sighs It’s a shame, such a beauty, is going to meet her demise I take one long breath in, trying not to wake her, Fortunately, she just slightly stirs... ...a few minuets later a sweet crimson river bursts its banks, And flows gently into my mouth like a slow waltz dance. It's a pity that beauty will now never wake, but at least when she ages, her beauty won't break.