Strange

 

There's a strangeness in the air. 

It's almost undetectable; but it's there. 

 

It's in the tint of the fall light,

It’s a murmur in the night. 

 

You can feel it crawling up your spine,

Your hair stands up like a sign. 

 

A primordial sense of feeling

That at night, sets you thinking. 

 

Tossing, turning as it comes stealing,

Into your dreams and leaves you reeling. 

 

It's a warning to beware,

This strangeness in the air. 

 

If you choose not to heed its warning,

You might wake up one sunny morning. 

 

To find all you loved and cherished gone,

To the strange before the dawn.

 

Copyright 2001 © Ronald W. Hull

 

11/4/01



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