Through fog shrouded streets,
only lamp light to guide.
Moonlight lost in the grey,
the man walked with a stride.
Purposeful and proud under clouds of grime,
he drove into the darkness,
for what would be the last time.
Can't escape the sound,
footsteps behind, thudding in time
with his heart as it pounds.
Can't avoid the thoughts,
can’t resist, they swirl like mist
through his head as he walks.
He Shouts,
"Let yourself be shown"
His voice strains to be heard
over the torrents of rain,
hiding The pain inside,
with a flurry of words.
His heart torn asunder,
as the figure emerged.
A distant call of thunder,
his vision is blurred.
The figure walks slowly,
bone white under jet black cloak.
Hazy in view,
like he's clouded in thick smoke.
Finger pointing at the man,
the hourglass in bony hand,
trickles it's last diminishing sands.
The man shouts,
"I need more time"
There is no reply,
time is unfair,
and in the air
just the sound of the wind as it blows.
For this road along which he walks
will be the last that he knows.
Thanks for reading
Peace, Love and Poetry
Kyle
Please take a look at my latest book
available in Hardcover, Paperback and Kindle editions
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