Shadows, slipping and shifting
Paint pictures so riveting
Like puppets, they dance and they prance
The light; their tempo—watch it advance
What wonderfully awful circumstance
Here comes thumping and bumping
Every step: board-belumping
Like angry galumphing, they grow louder and nearer
Fury; their tempo—hear it ever-clearer
The door handle turns
My stomach churns
Like growing fire; watch as it burns
Heartbeat; the flame’s tempo, it never downturns
Down by my heels, my heart sojourns
Now, a clash and a bash
Fire to ash
Like a candlelight douse and dash
The tempo; gone in a flash
The door; a gaping gash
A shriek, shallow and bleak
A wrathful wreak
Like throwing stones at a grosbeak
Two birds, one stone,
Shall my role be shone?
The rock, the bird, the hand, which must atone?
Questioning, a rising shepard’s tone
Just perchance,
I thought this happenstance—
A strident lance
A horrid stance
What wonderfully awful circumstance