Got that trickle down feeling again.
It didn't leave me reelingly,
but it did leave me feeling,
that something isn't quite right.

Like when you wake up,
to nothing but the night.
Sure there was something,
that would give you fright.

But nothing is there,
it's just the air, nowhere,
everywhere and all around,
a sound without a voice.

Nothing to hear in my inner ear,
except the sound of silence.
And the incessant knocking,
over which I have no choice.

Of my worry, my creeping fear,
that I will outlive my years,
and my happiness will not,
hold back the tears of tomorrow.

The trickle will become a torrent,
and though I will abhor it,
the end will not come in calm,
but in terror and sorrow.

Trickle Over the Ledge  

Photo Courtesy Anthony Stasunus


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