I search the night.
A lovely sight.
My wings are spread.
Don’t go to bed.
I see you scurry.
Don’t need to worry.
My talons reach for thee.
In the sky, you’ll soon be.
We’ll soar to my nest.
I will love you best.
I will be the last one you’ll see
before your eyes close for me.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
I have turned to stone.
I’m chilled to the bone.
The coldness is spreading.
Where can this be heading?
Please help me.
You can see.
I can’t even bend.
Life is at its end.
The night holds
You too tight.
You belong to us now.
I say this with a bow.
You will follow us to hell
As we ring the nightly bell.
Our servant you will be.
You’ll never be set free.
The skyline was beautiful before.
Hope was present before.
Brotherhood was keenly felt before.
Life was pure and simple.
Death wasn’t an everyday concern.
Before.
Fill the pages with
words and stories.
Fill our lives with
people and events.
Stories to tell our children.
Words to light our journey.
Life is short and precious.
It is our right to fill in the pages.
The house sits empty.
Spirits walk the hallways,
waiting for life and sounds
to enter the house again.
Waiting can be pure agony
when you have nowhere else to go.
