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Untitled -- 5.22.2005
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Other Poems The man walks quietly in the night.
He walks down the street,
Stopping in the shadows between lights.
He walks up to your window,
Looks inside,
And when you get that weird feeling and turn to look,
Nothing is there.
He is already back in the shadows,
Walking to the next house.
For one week, it occurs,
Yet no one says anything.
Who wants to sound stupid?
Who wants to spread personal fears?
Afraid of the dark?
Who wants the whole town to know?
Nothing is done,
But it goes on.
After a month,
It ends.
Everyone seems to have had a weight lifted,
And everyone notices,
And still says nothing.
But the man is still there, in the shadows on the hill,
Looking over the town.
After one week,
Dark clouds descend upon the town.
People swear it looks like a person,
Covering over their town,
But no one mentions it to anyone.
That night a storm ravages the town,
But everyone is in their homes.
The man comes to every door,
And leaves each one a few minutes later.
The next morning the streets are quiet,
No one is out, no one is there.
Perhaps if they said something sooner,
It could have been stopped.
But not until a week later,
When the troops first arrived.
Do they realize
That man was from the government,
Spying on them all.
And had they stood up and said something,
Been prepared,
The death of everyone there could have been prevented.
