Timeo

The sun still rises, now,

Each morning, and sets

As it you would expect.

Birds still sing, and yet

I hear the silences inbetween

The syllables in their songs,

The shade in the sounds.

Something’s wrong.

Jangled tangles of fear

Haunt my tired brain.

The beat of darkness draws -

What hope we’ll see light again?

© Teresa Durran 190407