Dream

Dream

The chill wind blows thru the trees,

The sound it makes puts me ill at ease.

Increasing freight of impending doom.

I fear my death is coming soon.

The thing that screams in the woods near by

Is the thing that I feel wants me to die.

The closer it comes, the faster I run, but

My breath is short, my endurance done.

I move in slow motion, it comes at me with great speed.

It has a blood-thirsty hunger, and a blood-thirsty need.

Teeth made for killing, and claws made for ripping.

The fear in my heart is all to gripping.

Say some kind words when they bury me deep.

I’m running in slow motion; it is the wolf I am the sheep.

Claws like talons, with a vice like grip.

As I climb this steep hill my feet start to slip.

How did I get to this place filled with such freight?

The last thing I remember, I was in bed at night.

Head on my pillow, blankets pulled tight.

I feel its hot breath on my neck as I climb.

The claws are sure to sink into my spine; it’s just a mater of time.

It’s just a mater of seconds, till my time runs out.

This creature will kill me, of this there is no doubt.

Long fur, foul breath, and a penchant for death.

As I fall to the ground with such great dismay,

I hear its teeth snapping, just inches away.

Just as I close my eyes, preparing for pain,

I know this much freight will surely drive me insane.

Now that I know that my death is so near,

And my heart just can’t take anymore fears,

I sit up in my bed, and scream,

My eyes filled with tears

 And I thank the lord that I am still here,

Safe in my room, far from the doom.

It was all in my head; it was just a bad dream.

So I get out of bed, to the window I go.

I need some fresh air, oh, look at the fresh snow,

It is so bright; see how it sparkles, in the moonlight,

But wait,…what’s this, Fresh tracks in the snow?

It seems to the basement window they go.

The stairs start to squeak, and creak under great weight.

I might as well face it, on this night, death is my fate.

R. F. Sorrell - 2/25/2014 - ©