2 Am

The phone rang twice, I fear the call at night. When deep in sleep we dream... awakened by a nightmare. When everyone is at rest, it is when we learn of death. When tears stream down and scraping in my gut, When legs tremble and collapse. Now the mornings when we wake, open one eye as if afraid... to see...haunting reality. Instantly I cramp, like being dealt a blow, gasping for more air. So please don't call me after dark, even if just to talk. I'll see the face of the brother that died that cold, dark September night.