Fingers grip the bannister
The lightest of footfalls
Rasping gasps of breath
Snatched in heavy silence
Moments stretch on
To an uncertain future
Bones creak, regretting motion
Hear the crescendo beat
The most important drum
As the lightest of footfalls
Around the corner come


One thought on “Reflection

  1. A rich, pictorial pencil sketch of those final, abstruse moments awaiting unequivocal erasure by the scythe of the Grim Reaper…?

    Or perhaps…

    An encapsulation of the inner turmoil, angst and sense of foreboding borne by the writer, as the spectre of uncertainty looms like an all consuming behemoth, just around the corner…?

    I like this; reminds me very much of the boy’s “wound of fear” which “gaped wide and raw” in Scannell’s A Case Of Murder.

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