Poetry by Jeff Green

1025–Heed.html

Heed

by cricketjeff on June 12, 2008.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

There is a darkest moment every night
When all the air is hushed and time is stilled.
A shadow passes by, a nameless blight,
The courage of the brave is swiftly spilled.
No sound is made as evil walks abroad
Yet all can hear this shadow of their doom.
You cannot know the target of its sword
A single morbid stroke from deepest gloom.
Each morning check the roll of all your friends
And warn them not to venture far away.
The bravest and the best can meet their ends
When forces of the night are out to play.
    I speak to you as one who knows its true
    I’m glad I’m dead, I used to be like you