Dread
She lies peacefully in our bed
dead to the world, unaware of
my scrutiny. Her quiescence
in that funereal repose
sends an ice-cold shiver of dread
throughout my entire body.
My mind begins to wander
through a surrealistic maze
that challenges all reality.
She’s asleep! I said to myself
unconvincingly; then hurried
to her bedside and pled out loud:
Please! Let these lips I kiss be warm.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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