Foreboding
I had been waiting for ages
under a stuttering streetlight,
when a figure emerged
from the shadows and said,
“What are you waiting for?”
“I’m not sure but I feel I have to.”
“Are you expecting someone, then?”
“Well, yes. Or maybe some thing.
The longer I wait, the more anxious
it makes me. It’s extremely unnerving.
Does everybody react like this?”
“Some do, but as far as I know
most don’t bother to think about it.”
“I keep looking over my shoulder,
which makes me even more uneasy.
I have such a sense of foreboding…”
“Relax. It seems like your wait is over.
Let’s walk to the end of the road.”
“So, you were the one I was waiting for.”
“Now that it’s dawned on you,
it’s too late. Your fate is sealed.”
©2023 Tony Dawson All rights reserved.
Tony Dawson has lived in Seville since 1989. His writing has appeared in print in Critical Survey, Shoestring Press, Poems-for-All, Chiron Review, Pure Slush, and Otherwise Engaged Literary Journal as well as online at Loch Raven Review, London Grip, The Five-Two, The Syndic Literary Journal, Horror Sleaze and Trash, Cajun Mutt Press, Poetry and Covid, Beatnik Cowboy, Retreats from Oblivion, and Home Planet News. He has published a collection, Afterthoughts, reviewed here:
https://londongrip.co.uk/2023/06/london-grip-poetry-review-tony-dawson/
Cajun Mutt Press 