Miss Willmot..

I've seen
Miss Willmots ghost..
by the black tulips..
she's looming
mysterious
superfluous frills
are not her.. .
she's red hot poker
with lace bat wings
rhythmic undulating..
pretty maids all
in deadly night shade
fall..  basked in
luminous shadow
hypnotising.. scents,
once you have her.
you'll always want her.
she'll be aglow
with iridescence.