“What if Jack and Jill were vampires?”

Up the hill, by moonlit thrill,  
Jack and Jill took flight—  
Not for water, but for laughter  
In the velvet night.  
Their eyes agleam with ancient dreams,  
Their cloaks as dark as sin,  
They skipped along the silver fog,  
And let their games begin.  

No wooden pail nor whisper pale  
Of spring or summer rain—  
They sought instead the quiet dread  
That mortal tales contain.  
With teeth agleam and secret scheme,  
They’d chase the stars until  
Night’s embrace— their hiding place—  
For ghostly Jack and Jill.  

They drank not deep from well or creek  
But from the misty air,  
Where fireflies and lullabies  
Had lingered unaware.  
No path of stones nor aching bones—  
No tumbling, broken crown—  
Just shadows cast that tiptoe past  
When dusk comes stealing down.  

Still up the rise, beneath the skies,  
They wander, never old,  
A story told when nights grow cold  
And moonlight turns things bold:  
What if, tonight, you see their flight  
Above the haunted hill?  
Remember then that legends end—  
But Jack and Jill haunt still.

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