My pulse is racing, I feel faint,
My heartbeat thunders in my ears,
The sweat is trickling down my back,
My mind is filled with dread and fears.
I think my heart will surely stop,
Too scared to move, my legs give out,
I tremble, sense the coming doom,
My mouth is dry, too hoarse to shout.
Resigned, I start to pray and quake,
For Mother bakes another cake…
*my mum doesn’t really bake cakes, good or bad!!
For Roy’s Poems to keep you awake at night contest, 1st June
Copyright © jack horne