Fear

POETS UNITED

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FEAR

'She looks back over her shoulder';

Oh what a chilling phrase!

For it's not the things we see in front

That haunt our nights and days.

It's always the 'thing' that slyly creeps

Behind us that we fear;

The footstep stopping when we stop,

Yet moving ever near.

The hairs on our neck tell the story;

They rise as the 'thing' draws nigh;

We turn, but we cannot see it.

It is clever, it is sly.

We don't fear the road we're treading,

Or whatever may lie ahead;

It's that which lurks behind us

That fills us all with dread.

'She looks back over her shoulder';

I wonder what she will find....

A fiend? A ghost? A killer?

Or her own over-fevered mind?

*

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LIKE THUNDER!

The 'Dawn Comes Up Like Thunder' as Kipling used to say.

And I can almost hear it roar at the breaking of the day.

The artificial lamps of night are still up there, aglow,

But the rising sun is putting on a more magnificent show!

The puny artifacts of man are dwarfed by the great sphere!

We must accept the adjective..... compared to the sun we're........'mere'.

*