It was about to snap, the brittle bound signalling line.

He didn’t know what to do as they all cried out, “Mine, mine, mine.”

The ticktock ticktock kept a measured beat.

Drowned out by their pounding clambering feet.

 

“No, no,” he cried to as if words would drive them back.

The more he screamed the more they came on the attack.

Did they sense it, the eminent fall?

Like an important phone call?

 

The twisting made the agony more than imagining.

The is was for real and too much for his handling.

The pulling grew stronger, as the line began to stretch.

What would happen when it snapped, would they catch?

 

“It’s okay,” they say as they keep telling him their reasons.

What they don’t know is he’s almost out of seasons.

The warnings are there, as he has constantly repeated.

But they never listen, they just want be sweetly greeted.

 

“Screw you,” he says through his dilapidated mind.

The snap they hear in his voice a shock, a new creature unkind.

“I told you to leave me alone,” he shouts.

All he receives in return are lips . . . all pouts.

 

“Sorry,” he says and their eyes begin to glow.

He shakes his head. “Your games a no go.

I know what your playin’ and it’s so tired.

So long to you all, it’s over, expired.”

 

He turns his way and then flips out the light.

One last look back and then he walks out into the night.

He wanders out into a place never before seen.

The streets are paved and the colors a majestic scene.

 

Finally peace, he thinks as eyebrows raise.

He finds a spot to relax and drifts as tired eyes glaze.

He faintly hears as he slips off into space,

The beautiful sounds . . .  of Amazing Grace.

 

Much Love to You All

&

To All a Goodnight

Ronovan

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