I sat alone, waiting for the phone to ring.
And I knew I could not answer it, for you are too dangerous -
too bad of news for me to receive.
I held my breath, waiting to exhale until after the police arrived.
And they pronounced your death.
For how was I to know how long the sky had been dark on your dreams,
how long since the sun had set in your fields.
Yet the moon refuses to rise.
She's determined - figures there's a reason -
and I hesitate to look as they pull back the sheets -
for whose soul could reflect their presence after their loss
except those who determined their own demise -
And the blood still haunts me.
