It’s not snakes or hour-glass spiders,
Angry dogs with snarling
fangs,
No, not reckless breakneck
speed
Or deadly drops from
desperate heights.
Not the threat of godless
cons who
Conscience bare of any shred
of
Civilized humanity.
Not wind or water, hail or
blizzard,
Nor any form of nature’s
force,
Though nature is a
frightening bitch
To be respected, if not
feared.
Not the sound of cannon fire
That rings a distant knell of
death, or
Storming troops in battered
streets
Killing anything that moves.
Rising up in silence on a
morning
Fresh with golden sun,
The thing that I fear most of
all:
Waking without you.
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