Fear And Lurk
The spider outside my doorlies in wait on a night like this.
I see his shadow, not moving,
on the wall. So still.
The tiger inside my door
lies in wait for the weak who fall.
I hear him him sleeping,
but I'm not fooled into dreaming
no more.
I might as well be blind
if I don't like what I see;
and I may hear nothing
when the music is for me.
Poetry by nice curtains
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Written on 2009-06-06 at 07:03
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liz munro |
