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In Its Clutches
Rohan Ferris
Upon the hill stood tall dark trees;
dancing wildly in the cutting breeze.
I felt you with me, sitting near;
for within you there was much fear;
I felt you tremble a tiny quaver;
your coldness made it all much graver.
There was a snap, something behind;
whatever stirred would not be kind.
Your body jumped, out came a gasp;
as if to call that evil mask.
What lurked behind our trembling backs;
was something of the blackest blacks.
The one true thing that threatens all;
that slippery beast, its cat-like call.
When alone its at it's worst;
giving you its deadly curse.
It drowns you in its swampy pool;
your mind will play you for a fool;
for in the dark we all have seen;
things that have never really been.
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