Dark Days
Dark days
It’s Friday and the dark is coming,
sitting on the garden swing seeing all my old sin.
The sun has gone down and it’s so quiet,
looks no different from any other day,
but the birds have stopped singing and the stillness is almost electrifying,
is death coming for me?
Or someone dear, he came before,
I showed no fear.
I told him ‘bugger off its not my time’,
he looked at me red eyes spitting fire,
he said I will be back for you.
I picked up my drink and started to think,
how many people have looked into deaths eyes and survived?
I have and when he comes back I will say the same thing,
‘bugger off death it’s not my time.’
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