What I See
Eleven o’clock, the toilet run,
Spots last chance, before morning sun.
I saw a star, that shone bright,
between two trees, as black as night.
As I gazed, upon that star,
something changed, though not that far,
Twas not the mouse, nor the rat,
this was huge, compared to that.
The trees they grew, before my eyes,
their blackness swelled, in moonlit skies.
I looked away, and then looked back,
and once again, the trees grew black.
What I saw, I used to fear,
hide away, and shed a tear.
Not always sight, but sometimes sound,
would have me running, homeward bound.
An open door, a prison cell,
within my head, my own hell.
Spot I had, as my guide,
past the door, to step outside.
Illusions at times, I will be given,
It’s not a curse, and sure not heaven.
I can see things, others cannot,
at first I thought, I’d lost the plot.
But now I wonder, what they mean,
what messages lie, in what I’ve seen.
My mind a lesson, it tries to teach,
the answer, alas, I’ve yet to reach.
It lies ahead.
I’m off to bed!
A § M