Email Poem

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Poem

whilst sitting at my writing desk
with candle at death’s door
my tired eyes missed pot of ink,
arm sent it to the floor

a sign the sandman beckoned me
my eyes turned to the ground
then my knees did follow so, for
nowhere was it found 

bemused I stood and took back step
but now less to me was clear,
my writings and my favoured quill
had also disappeared

no time had I to contemplate
as shadow made it’s move
which drew my gaze towards the thing
in the corner of the room

there it sat with quill in hand
pot of ink sat by it’s side
 changes to my writings made
it stared at me with all it’s eyes

eternity between us stood
no move could I make nor conceive
then with piercing screams of terror
it lunged it’s grasp and self at me

few things have ever frightened I
I but frightened many more
but no shame did this horror permit
I ran to claw upon the door

locked! my luck, I felt the end
my lungs lost all their sacred air
I turned to meet my own demise
but turned see no thing there

glancing at my writing desk
pages of new words on show
intrigue will never best my chills
those words I’d rather never know


May 22nd 2020

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