This looks like…,
The dark has a voice,
Settling down like a windblown
blanket,
On the hard ground it
lays,
The dark lush of
green,
Naked under the canopy,
The ferns bush like
fingers tossed in the air,
Two glowing eyes
stare out,
Predator seeking it’s pray,
No, it watches on
back,
Right at you and me,
This is not over,
And stalks off,
Shaking not a leaf
and no trace,
The end has come,
And the heart pounds,
The ever doom has arrive.
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