I can him whistling outside.
He stares right into my window.
I go into my covers and hide.
He still is walking slow.
I don't know what is real.
I don't know what is dream.
But knowing all the fear I feel.
This must be as it seems.
I saw what his face was.
And he's still by my front lawn.
Throughout the night, I hear him.
Until the light of dawn.
I am so scared I barely breathe.
I don't get out of bed.
For if some chance he sees me leave.
He'll be in my house and I'll be dead.
The tune of his whistle sounds so strange.
But now I cannot move.
For this makes my life so deranged.
But makes my courage prove.
Why would a man do this?
To such a youthful boy?
For he's showing me hell, the great abyss.
My entire night destroyed.

Copyright ©2001 Joseph Michael Egan