For most, death dark as night
As compare visions, flowers bright
Death brings maze, confusion imbue
Unsettling when grief raw, all can view

As we dislike being reminded
Of this time primal, while blinded
Reaction, pain, anger seem resigned
Instead I view death, a companion beside

As simple as falling leaf swept
Or seed floating, for winds to direct
For replacing fear, loneliness and strife
Recognition of death gives freedom in life

You are my medicine
Like a shot of jack on Friday
A great grimy dance floor on Tuesday
Off on a Monday

This is an indispensable love that has tied itself to me
Handcuffed my tired wrists to its strong pull
It is luring me in and I am trying to convince myself
Maybe I can walk away from this before it is too late
Before I am completely bound
Before this small cuff turns into chains
Love does not let you see it adding more custody
You will not realize the urgency until you cannot move
And I feel as though, maybe looking at you too long
Can cause a ******* that I will never escape from
And I am not sure if I am ready to be bound to you
While you are still bound to her

An unexpected caller came
in the middle of the night.
Had me traipsing downstairs,
guided by candlelight.
(I’d suffered a power cut
sometime earlier in the day,
A temporary arrangement
until I arranged to pay.)
“Who is it?” I calmly asked,
trembling behind the door,
Cold striking up my legs
from the clay-tiled floor.
“Who is it?” I asked again
with cautious trepidation,
Fighting back the fear of
an unwanted confrontation.
No one answered back,
not one single, solitary, peep,
from the unexpected caller
who’d ruined my beauty sleep.
The letterbox then rattled again
giving me something of a start!
Jumping flame-lit shadows
jumping in my fluttering heart.
The identity of the caller rolled
around my searching brain.
The ghostly rattling letterbox
then startled me again!
Carefully, I opened the door
with safety chain in place.
Prepared to slam it shut again
you know, just in case.
What greeted me was not
something that needed sorting.
Just my amorous cat, returning
from a nights, hectic courting.
(Lucky thing.)

©Paul M Chafer 2015