A Picture Perfect Nightmare

It’s not us,

it’s what the day becomes;

our fragile vessel

held aloft

by dead hands.

Surrounded by blue light,

I used to picture you

travelling on

to another place.


What was it

that we set out for

before the house fire?

Before the thunderstorm?

Never did we know

this was a flight from danger;

we just went,

and on

and on

the danger came.



Something like wolves at the door,

but with the shape of Men

and eyes like snakes.

Beings of pure Hunger.


Narrow though our escape

may have been,

I cannot forget

how close I was

to losing you;

a picture perfect nightmare.


So now,

in you blue dress,

head up to the manor house,

this new, absolving structure.

I will get the men

and we will get the guns.

for we have courage enough

to hunt down these creatures.

If we are not them.

If they are not us.


Either way,

you’re safe,

up in the reading room.

I can picture you,

standing in the window.

So beautiful,

my ghostly memory.


HG – 2018


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