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Close behind;
Something there
is gone 
when I turn.
Still, it is there,
can feel its eyes
picking carefully
at my clothing.
Each step I take,
it does too.
Each time I stop,
the silence is frightening.
Afraid to run,
I know it's faster,
so I walk on.
a sound I hadn't heard before 
crawls up my spine,
breathing, louder than mine.
My heart is pounding now,
mind whirling in panic.
What did it want?
Does it know me?
Then, a hand on my shoulder,
I freeze in horror.
A familiar voice laughing,
says, honey, 
you forgot your jacket.

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn



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