Demise of a midnight prowler

He’d stalked my room, invisible he’d skulked.
Tonight he has appeared, eight-legged he sits
High up the wall, unmoving, still as I.
Enormous legs and body huge to match.

A plot she swiftly has to hatch
for his despatch. For I am numb.
Limbs frozen, not from cool night air,
But chilling phobia, irrationally
takes hold, and grips my mind in chill embrace.
Ice-cold fingers
choke thought,
halt breath,
root legs,
lock arms.

Now past.
Relief.
Release.
Normality
restored. Swift thaw of body and of mind.
Thoughts flood the mind, and breath the lungs. Legs move
In cortège for a fear that’s passed away.
A late-night funeral for foe and fear,
Both hatched, and soon despatched. Unexpected.
So like the times it happens for a friend.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *